


Fox Spirit || 狐狸精

by deltachye



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Chinese Character, Chinese Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ninjas - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x ling yao]Fox spirit; benevolent or malicious. As a powerful young girl with no memory of her past and no certainty of her future, you have been chosen as a vassal for the 12th prince of Xing. As you grow up with the young lord, life reveals its cruel truth, as well as the beauty behind love. A double edged sword; a rose, beautiful but bedecked with thorns...A fox, benevolent or malicious. You decide.





	1. Clever Spirit || 灵姚

執子之手，與子偕老...

* * *

 

“…boy?”  
   
“No, she’s a girl. I can sense it through her chi.”  
   
“What is a young girl doing out here alone, then? She is not Yao. We would know if she was.”  
   
“I don’t know. I’ve never sensed this chi before. She doesn’t seem to be from one of the neighbouring clans. But, for a child, she emanates an incredible pressure... The Dragon’s Pulse coming from her is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”  
   
You stirred and was immediately hailed with a harrowing cough that brought blood to your lips. The taste was like rust, oddly familiar, and it leaked slowly from the corners of your mouth like syrup. Your breath was labored and you struggled to your knees, your hands sinking into the soft and wet clay in the effort to support your frail body. Fire raced through your entire being and your arms trembled uselessly. The two men that had been talking looked down at you suspiciously, hands on the hilts of blades. You squinted up at them, rain blurring them into blotches of darkness against the great milky sky.  
   
“Who are you?” one demanded. “Where do you hail from?”  
   
You opened your mouth. Your voice was weak and raspy, and entirely foreign to you. Through your ears it felt as if somebody else was speaking, shaky and desperate.  
   
“I don’t… know.”  
   
“Are you a spy? An assassin?”  
   
Your eyes clouded over. The rain was heavy and each splatter felt like a blow against your feverish skin. Unable to keep yourself upright, you slumped forwards, your jaw slamming into the muddy ground with a pathetic _thwump_.  
   
“Hey, she must be sick…” A heavy hand slapped around your face before withdrawing quickly. “She’s burning up! She must be plagued. Her chi was so strong that I didn’t notice, but she’s ill.”  
   
“Should we bring her back to the palace? The healers can purge her pestilence easily.”  
   
“I think we ought to let her die. We don’t know where she comes from, after all…”  
   
You lay silently as they muttered about your fate. Your consciousness was spinning away from you no matter how hard you tried to keep it in your grasp. All you could think about as you lay and faded away was the question he had asked you… the simplest one of all: who are you?  
   
And you didn’t know.  
   
Tears of despair leaked out of your eyes and you were gone.  
 

\---

   
Recovery had been swift with the help of alkahestry. But, the same could not be said for your conscience. The disease that had ailed you had been left untreated for so long that it was able to claim some of your memories through its fever. At least, that was what the doctor had suggested. You had retained the basics, such as language and arithmetic, but nothing about your life had stuck. You had been interrogated and questioned mercilessly throughout the past week, but you had been unable to answer any questions at all. You didn’t know your past, your family… you couldn’t even recall your name. They had thought that you were lying at first and kept you strung up in the palace’s dungeons; but after a month without change, the Yao clansmen had decided that you were telling the truth after all. They had released you and, because of your overwhelming energy and skill, taken you in as a Yao clansman. The sun burned against your unaccustomed eyes and you had to peer under the shade of your fingers. The veranda overlooked the mountainside and you could see ant-like rice paddy workers bent over, running tiny hands over the lush greenery. Wind fluttered your long hair and you sighed contentedly.  
   
“It is beautiful, is it not? Our land is truly blessed.”  
   
The voice startled you and you squeaked, jumping to the side. You caught yourself on the railing and held one of your hands up defensively, but the only person there was a woman with a young face and smooth dark hair. She chuckled at you and you looked down at her silks, seeing a bulge of a stomach stretching the seams. She followed your gaze and rubbed her swollen belly fondly.  
   
“I am the Yao concubine. I hold the 12th prince of Xing inside of me.” She looked up at you and you merely blinked, disinterested in her explanation. Her laugh was clear as bells and you felt the tension in your shoulders dissipate. “You are the girl they found collapsed on the outskirts, yes?”  
   
You nodded numbly, lowering your small hand.  
   
“What is your name, child?”  
   
You frowned and looked at your feet. The reaction made her face soften into one of pathos and she looked down at her stomach again, her tapered fingers splayed across the red fabric.  
   
“So you do not have a name? Poor girl… Do not worry, you will be assigned one. As for this one… he will be named Ling.”  
   
“Clever spirit,” you translated, cocking your head. You traced the character on your thumb. She raised an eyebrow, surprised.  
   
“Yes, indeed. You are versed well in Hanzi for a child. Ling, a clever spirit… I can only pray that he will take up His Imperial Majesty’s throne—ah!”  
   
“What’s wrong?” you squeaked worriedly when she winced, her delicate features contorting with pain. She staggered and you ran up to her, helping her to the wooden railing. After a moment of grimacing, she sighed with relief, rubbing a trail of sweat from her brow with her sleeve.  
   
“This little spirit is a strong one. Would you like to feel?”

You stared up at her and emphatically shook your head. “No, I couldn’t, not as a peasant girl—!”  
   
“Peasant?” she questioned, seeming startled. “Is that what they told you?”  
   
“They told me I would be sent to a family on the farms…”  
   
“No, that is not true. It would be a waste of your talents to send you away. You will be staying in the palace. They told me that you have an enormous chi… and that you are skilled in martial arts, among other talents.”  
   
You nodded warily. A knowing smirk appeared on her face.  
   
“So it is true? You single handedly felled an entire troop of our finest warriors? You, a three-year-old child! If it weren’t for the eyewitnesses, I would not have believed it.”  
   
You blushed and fiddled with your fingers, shifting anxiously on your feet. You muttered apologetically, “I didn’t mean to do it. They said they were going to hurt me. And I didn’t hurt _them_ all that bad…”  
   
You jumped again when her gentle touch rested upon your head, ruffling your hair. She smiled down at you, and you felt warmth, as if she were the sun.  
   
“Feel free,” she said with a hand on her stomach, and you swallowed nervously. You hesitantly pressed your hands over her stomach and reeled back when a soft touch responded. The Yao concubine gasped slightly but gave you a reassuring grin.  
   
“There’s… there’s life inside of you!” you whispered, awed. She took your hands and locked them against her skin so that you could feel the patterns of Ling’s kicks—and after a few moments, you swore that you could feel his heartbeat.  
   
“You must protect him with your life. Do you hear me? You are now a warrior of the Yao clan, and as such, you will be one of the young lord’s most trusted retainers. Can I trust you?”  
   
“You’re trusting me with his _life_?” you asked incredulously, withdrawing your hands. “You just said it yourself, I’m just a kid… I don’t even know who I _am_!”  
   
She nodded firmly, resolution etched into her eyes. “I do not need to know your past to know your future. You _will_ serve him on his ascension to greatness.”  
   
“I…”  
   
“Do you promise your loyalty to me, and him, child?”  
   
After a moment of thought, you looked down at your hands, which still throbbed at the feeling of his gentle heartbeat. Your large eyes stared wondrously at her stomach and then you took a deep breath, nodding once.  
   
“I promise.”  
   
“Good.” Then she sank to her knees, making you cry out in shock. She gripped your shoulders, a strained smile still quirked on her lips. “Would you send for the doctor? It seems that he has decided to come early, he’s so excited to meet… you…”  
   
“Y-yes, my lady! Please, just hang on…”  
 

\---

   
The mother of the 12th prince of Xing died shortly after giving birth.  
   
No amount of healing could have saved her. You sat in the hall formally, but could not stop staring down at your hands, remembering the touch of her silk and the warmth of her smile. It was not too long before you were summoned into the room. It smelled strongly of blood and rosemary, and your nose wrinkled with disgust.  
   
“ _You_ are?” one of the men dressed in impressive robes demanded. You jumped and swallowed. Despite the woman’s promises, you had not yet been given a name. Unable to say anything, you merely looked down.  
   
“Leave her be,” an old man grumbled, swatting at the other. “She is one of his vassals.”  
   
“Her? She does not hail from your family, Fu. She’s awfully young, too. She can’t be older than three years.”  
   
“You are right, but do you feel the chi coming from that child? She shall serve Master Ling well.”  
   
“Serve him well? For all we know she could be from another clan, vying to take his life…”  
   
The familiar name stirred your heart and you ignored the accusations. Ling, the clever spirit. His heartbeat throbbing on your fingertips.  
   
“I’m not going to kill him,” you said as earnestly as you could in your small voice, “I swear. I promised her that I’d protect him.”  
   
Before they could respond a sudden eruption of cries made you yelp and cover your ears, wincing at the shrillness. The old man looked at you and scowled deeply, slapping your arms away. The sharp sting made your eyes water.  
   
“Do not be so disrespectful of your lord!”  
   
“Lord?” you whispered quietly. After the woman had been taken away, you had been sat down and lectured on what it meant to be a vassal. You were to serve the young lord. You were to ensure his safety, and you were to give your life for him. All were easy things to agree to, but now that it was real… terror gnawed at you and you felt like shrinking away.  
   
The ring of old healers suddenly parted at the robed man’s command, revealing the wet nurse, who held a baby in her arms. His wailing did not stop and he didn’t bother to suckle for milk, swinging tiny fists around in rage. You gaped at him, all your fear forgotten as you took in his physique. Strong. Proud. Even for a child, just hours in the world… you gasped and clutched a hand to your heart. The Dragon’s Pulse coming from such a small boy was overwhelming.  
   
“You still do not have a name?”  
   
You blinked and then shook your head obediently, jolted out of your stupor by the old man. He grunted.  
   
“Fine then, you shall adopt my name, Fu. As for your given name, do you have a preference?”  
   
You shook your head.  
   
“Nothing at all?” he insisted. “Nothing that is precious to you?”  
   
Again, you shook your head no, lugubriously. The only thing that had been precious to you was that woman’s smile, and she was already gone.  
   
“Fine,” he snapped, but his face softened. “You will take the name Hu Li.”  
   
“Fox,” you translated immediately, the words clicking in place. He nodded.  
   
“You have a pointed nose and sharp eyes. Fox spirits can either be benevolent or malicious—do the name well and serve master Ling with your life.” He then turned and you watched as he received the young lord in his arms, cradling him. Ling continued to scream, and you could not blame him, with his mother lying a few feet away with only white cloth to cover her face. Then, to your great surprise, he passed Ling to you.  
   
You would never forget what it felt like to hold him. Immediately he quieted and opened his dark eyes, staring into your eyes. His hair was already full with dark hair, and the blankets swaddling him did not prevent him from reaching a hand up and tugging on your collar. The man in the robes chuckled and all previous tension melted away.  
   
“Seems like he has taken a liking to you, Hu Li.”  
   
_He has decided to come early, he’s so excited to meet you._  
   
“Milord,” you whispered to him, and he cooed, a toothless grin stretching across his face.


	2. Pinky Promise || 勾手指尾

As a member of the Fu family, one with the generational lineage of serving the Yao clan, you were now designated with the task of helping to raise the young lord. After first holding him he would fuss every time you let him go, and you spent many sleepless nights trying to coax him to sleep. Despite the trouble you had grown attached to him quickly. But, despite being three years his senior… the child still treated you as his toy.

“Gotcha’!”

You screamed with surprise and leapt to your feet, pressing your hand into the area of your scalp that now burned. Ling grinned up at you, a few strands of your dark hair in his vice grip. 

“Ling!” you scolded, but remembered your place. Your tone turned to that of exasperation and you sighed. “Milord, _please_ …”

He pouted and slumped. “That’s no fair. Everybody always gives up. It’s no fun if they don’t try to fight back.”

“Maybe it’s because of the fact that if we retaliate, we’re committing _leze majesty_ and would be sentenced to death,” you muttered under your breath, brushing your hand through your hair. A lot of it had been lost since Ling’s birth. You’d finally gone and cut it short after having it pulled too many times, and the fine strands swayed, brushing your shoulders. Fat load of good cutting it did.

You glanced back at him through the corner of your vision. It had been five long years. He had grown exponentially, like a bamboo shoot. Despite his change, you still saw him as the pudgy infant who walked into walls and cried endlessly for you.

“What’re you saying? No fair with the big words, Foxy.” The nickname had stuck once he learnt the translation of your name and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to knock it off. He plopped down beside you on your spot on the veranda. You sat down beside him, again turning your gaze to the mountainside, where the paddy farmers worked diligently.

“Nothing important,” you said calmly. You shot him a look. “But you should be paying more attention to your language lessons, young lord.”

He stuck his tongue out at you. “Don’t wanna.”

You returned the gesture, placing a hand under your eye and making a face. “You’ll be dumb forever if you don’t learn.”

“I’m not dumb!”

“Mm,” you smiled, laughing when he punched you in the arm. The blow hurt, though, and your arm tingled with numbness. You turned your gaze back outwards and rested your head against the railing. There was comfortable silence. Despite the large difference in social standing, he felt like your little brother.

“Hey, Foxy.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to call me ‘lord’.”

Your brow furrowed and you gave him a strange look. “Why not? That’s who you are to me.”

“I don’t want to hear my future wife call me lord, it’s weird.”

“W-wife?” you gasped, nearly choking on yourself. You stifled laughter behind a closed fist. “Ling, I can’t be your wife.”

“Teacher said that the emperor has an empress alongside the concubines. When I become emperor, you’re gonna be my empress. Duh.”

“Milor—I mean, Ling…” you gave an amused laugh but shook your head, smiling sadly. “I’m your servant. I’m older than you, too. Besides, you’ve got to take a woman of high nobility as your bride, remember?” 

“Don’t wanna.”

“Ling.”

“Don’t wanna!”

You gave a wry smile and shook your head again. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Yup.”

“That will get you in trouble some day.”

He grinned up at you. “Not when I’m emperor.”

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that if the young lord went around declaring that a servant girl would be his bride, you’d probably end up executed. “I know. Will you be quiet if I promise you?”

“Pinky swear it!”

You held out your hand and he wrapped his finger, his hand already larger than yours, around you. He gave a large grin and you felt your heart jolt slightly. It had been a joke, but suddenly, you didn’t feel as if it were just a fake promise to placate him.

“You promised,” he sang, getting to his feet. He pulled on the back of your clothing and you followed, standing diligently. 

“What is it now?” you asked tiredly, still trying to push aside your mixed feelings.

“I need you to hide me.”

“What? Why?” you asked sharply, your eyes darting around suspiciously. You hadn’t felt a presence, but if he was in danger, you needed to get him to safety. “Are you under attack?”

“I will be when teacher finds me!”

“Ling!” you gasped angrily, “you ran out on your lessons _again_? They’ll only blame me when they find you!”

“That’s why you’ve gotta hide me! C’mon, already!”

He took your hand and dragged you behind him. Already he wasn’t much shorter than you, and you trailed along, lost in the sight of his regality.

Empress, huh…


	3. Birthday || 生日

The day was incredibly humid, but chilly. The mountains blocked most wind, but the fogs were still heavy. The low clouds clung to you and seeped the damp cold down to your bones. Despite your thick clothes, you shivered.

“I’m coming for you!”

You easily blocked his attack with a wrist deflection, looking back down at your book disinterestedly. 

“If you are attacking, it would be best not to announce that you’re launching an attack,” you said detachedly, immersing yourself back into the novel. Ling’s studies in martial arts officially took place with Fu and other retainers, but he always begged that you practice with him during his free time. It wasn’t as if you could say no, but you had also been noticing a steady improvement when you sparred with him. It had been too easy before, but now, you found yourself constantly having to look up. But you didn’t need to tend to his ego.

Ling was bent forwards onto his knees, breathing heavily. He looked up at you and frowned, pointing accusatorily. “How are you so good at this? You weren’t even trained by Fu, or anybody!”

You opened your mouth but closed it. He’d hit a sore spot. You didn’t know. You didn’t know why your chi levels were sky high, and you didn’t now how you had emerged as such a skilled fighter. Fu had taught you how to control your chi so that you didn’t give yourself away, but the fact remained; the Dragon’s Pulse was drawn to you. The skills were just a part of you, as if they had been engrained into your muscles the moment you were born. The first three years of your life had been entirely erased. Only basic knowledge had come through the disease with you. But then, you supposed as Ling got back into position—it didn’t matter what had happened those three years, as long as you were here now. Luckily for you, he didn’t notice your lack of response and sighed loudly instead.

“Man, this sucks. We’re taking a break. But only because you seem tired, not me!”

“Fine, fine,” you complied, returning back to the text. The two of you sat next to the tallow tree and you felt his body slump against your shoulder, filling you with warmth. Ling cleared his throat and you looked back up. “What is it?” you asked, feeling self-conscious under his scrutinizing stare.

“How old are you, Foxy?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know? It isn’t polite to ask of a lady’s age.”

“Answer the question,” he persisted. You took a moment to think about it, making some calculations on your fingers. 

“Nine,” you said after a while.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

You blinked. You didn’t know the answer to that. You hadn’t bothered to celebrate such a trivial thing, nor did Fu think that you needed one, so you had just never had a date to call yours. To respond, you shrugged. He scowled and put crossed his arms over himself.

“What’s that for? You _do_ have a birthday, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you agreed, “I just don’t remember when it is. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he said passionately, “of course it does!”

You chuckled to yourself. “Fine. If you care so much, we’ll say that my birthday is the same as yours. Happy?”

He mused for a second before nodding. “Okay.” Then he frowned. “For a ten year old, you’re pretty short. And you don’t have big boobs. That’s lame.”

“Wh-what?! Ling, you—!”

By the time you had gotten to your feet he had already raced up the tree, smirking down at you. Your cheeks were flushed and you scowled up at him bitterly… but for some reason, knowing that there was a date you could call your birthday—and knowing that you shared it with the young lord—made you very happy.


	4. Nightmare || 恶梦

It was a recurrent dream.

You had always suspected that it might be more than just a dream, but whenever you woke up the details were so hazy that you could scarcely remember what had happened. But you always woke in a cold sweat and you were almost certain that the dreams were the memories you had lost.

A woman, old and shriveled like willow bark left in sun sat before you. Her clothes were simple and dyed black. Her hair looked like floating strands of silver and it was tied back in an austere bun. Her aura seemed overly intimidating for such a small woman, and even in the dream, you shuddered.

“You understand?” she said, her voice so quiet that it sounded like wind through the leaves.

“I do.” The voice was both yours and not, and you only watched through the eyes of a younger version of yourself, unable to control anything but your own fear.

“Do not return unless you have his head, child. If you are found disobedient, you’ll be killed.”

“I know.”

The woman disappeared just as you blinked and there was no trace of her wherever you looked. The only way you would’ve known that she was there at all was the echoing sound of her commands in your head.

“Foxy, wake up!”

“Ah!”

You sat up quickly and reached for the kunai by your bedding, your hands grasping the cold metal and ribbon before a familiar face loomed over you in the moonlight.

“Ling?” you asked, lowering the weapon with a tired sigh. “What are you doing in my room?”

“You were crying.”

“I was?” You touched your face and sure enough, streaks of tears lined your skin. You wiped them away hastily.

“Bad dream?” Ling asked softly, still crouching on your knees. You hesitated but shrugged, playing it off as not to make him worry.

“It’s not your concern. Ah—you should be resting! Your coronation takes place tomorrow morning, young lord.” You yawned and sniffled, getting out of your blankets. “Come, I’ll escort you back to your room—”

“I’m staying here.”

You froze. “What?”

He darted into your bedding was already snuggling up to you before you could say another word, and a contented but smug smile had stretched his angular features. “It’ll be dangerous to wander the halls at night. Never know what’s gonna happen. Besides, it’s warm and comfy next to you, and my room is _sooo_ cold.”

“You have a fireplace that’s tended to twenty-four seven. It _can’t_ be cold in your room,” you argued, but you made no further move to leave. You sighed. “Fine, I’ll find some other bedding. Just sleep.”

Before you could get up he stopped you again, his hand shooting out from under the blanket to grasp your wrist. You flinched at the touch but relaxed, knowing that he was feeling your pulse. He hummed nonchalantly, but you knew that he knew of your anxiety.

“I order you to stay here.”

“Ling,” you muttered, “if they find you in my bed, they’ll think—”

“Let them think what they think. I want to be next to you so that you don’t have any more bad dreams. Now get some sleep. That’s another order, by the way.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again but you smiled, dabbing them away with your sleeve.

“Yes, young lord.”

“Ling, not lord.”

You closed your eyes and turned your back to his, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against your skin.

“Okay, Ling. Thank you.”

His hand snaked out and stroked your hair, and you fell into a dreamless sleep, the woman’s face finally fading from your memory for the rest of the night.


	5. White Ribbon || 白丝带

You had woken Ling up early to sneak him back into his room. It was treacherous and the guard patrol very nearly caught you both, but you managed to get back to your room without incident. You made your bedding and scarcely had enough time to yawn before a squad of maids burst into your room.

“Coronation preparations!” they all said in unison, grim looks on their faces. You scowled. As one of the young lord’s vassals, you were required to make an appearance, and despite being masked you were expected to be groomed. It was ridiculous, but you had no power, so you sat and was subject to hours of painful scrubbing and maintenance. The two maids worked efficiently but gossiped the whole time, rubbing down your naked body and scrubbing your scalp.

“Hu Li, you have such a fair face. Why did you become a vassal of the young lord’s protective guard?”

You couldn’t reply, as you were too busy wincing as the other maid plucked hairs from your legs. Normally your pain tolerance was quite high, but you despised having to go through this process. You weren’t going to be showing your legs, anyways, so who cared?

“Must you?” you growled through gritted teeth. She gave you a sharp look that said, ‘of course, now suck it up!’, and you sank back into the bath. To respond to the question, you merely sighed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“With a body like this,” another woman said, grasping your wrist roughly and scrubbing so hard that the skin turned red, “you could become the Yao concubine.”

“What?!” you spluttered, sitting up in the bath and splashing water onto the bath floor. “I could never! That would mean I’d have to bear the child of the emperor… and besides, the daughter of the clan’s chief is the concubine!”

“That is true for the other clans, but haven’t you heard? The current Yao chief has been cursed with sterility and has no children, meaning that a honourary Yao concubine must be sought out. It is a dream for children your age! We ladies are much too old, but you are only three years the young lord’s elder, are you not? Life as a concubine is set from the start. You will have riches and you will do no work… yet you have chosen to be a vassal. It is a shame.” 

You sank back under the water to hide your reddening face and closed your eyes, ignoring the rest of their chattering.

_You promised that you’d be my empress! Pinky promised!_

When you sighed, the water bubbled, and you distantly hoped that you could drown yourself before having to confront such embarrassing words again.

\---

After dressing, you were instructed to wait until the official ceremony took place. Already the townspeople were alive, coming from all corners of Yao territory to gather in the palace grounds. There were festivals and celebrations, and you could already hear an excited racket coming from outdoors. First, Ling would be presented to the entire Yao clan, before being whisked away to the grand palace at the centre of Xing to be presented to the emperor. It was tradition to do so when the fiftieth—in this case, fourty-third, as seven clans were rendered unable to produce a suitable child—heir turned eight, the luckiest number. Ling was currently twelve, and the eldest princess was only sixteen. Competition would be tighter this generation than the past. The thought gave you chills.

“Where is the little brat—Hu Li!”

You jumped at the sound of your name and bowed obediently to your foster-father, Fu. He was still dressed in casual clothing and you were jealous, currently sweating in yours.

“Have you seen Lan Fan?”

“No,” you said honestly, not having seen the twelve-year-old vassal since yesterday. Fu slapped a hand to his forehead and grumbled.

“She must still be sleeping. Fine! Hu Li, go tend to the young lord.”

“Already?” you asked, bewildered as Fu stalked off. An annoyed ‘yes!’ trailed after his footsteps and you sighed, slumping over. The day had not even begun, and you were already exhausted. The heavy ceremonial kimono nipped at your heels and you almost fell several times. You missed your normal clothes. You excused yourself and moved past the guards, stepping into Ling’s room. Surprisingly, he sat alone, cross-legged on the floor. No maids or servants were in sight.

“Hey, Foxy,” he said, staring out of one of his open doors with a glum expression on his face. You walked up to him and knelt. 

“What’s gotten to you? Aren’t you excited?”

“I guess—whoa. Hu Li, is that really you?” He gaped at you and you rolled your eyes, tugging at the sleeves of your golden robes. Your head was also unnaturally heavy with the ornamental decorations and you had to remember not to touch your face as to ruin the make-up.

“Yes, it’s me. I can look like a woman sometimes, too!” you muttered defensively, slightly offended at the incredulous expression on his face. He gave a small laugh, which started to worry you further, and he turned his gaze back outdoors.

“I never said you didn’t. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” you said slowly, your eyes narrowing. “Is… something wrong?”

He tugged at a button on his shirt, before inhaling deeply and sighing. He turned to look at you and for the first time since his birth, he looked afraid.

“What if I don’t become the emperor?”

You decided that it would be best to give an honest answer and spoke calmly. “Then our clan could perish, depending on who takes the throne.”

He nodded grimly, turning back to the outdoors. The sunlight was starting to peek out over the mountains, and there was a hum of excited cheering coming from the townsfolk.

“I heard from Teacher that there are half a million subjects living in Yao territory.”

“You heard right.”

“Then, five hundred thousand people are depending on me.” His shoulder slumped as if the mere weight of the words were already too much. “What if I do take the throne, and end up as a failure…?”

You gave him a sad look before straightening your back.

“Turn around, Ling.”

He did so and you scooped up his hair, brushing through it with your fingers. It was obvious that he’d kicked out the maids before they had been able to fix it, and you stroked the black strands gently, smoothing out bumps and knots.

“Ling, listen to me.” You spoke quietly but with a firm voice. “It doesn’t matter to me whether you think you’ll become emperor or not, because I’ll make sure that you can be. I will defend you with my life, so now, it’s your job to fight for what is yours.” You secured his hair with a white ribbon and patted his back reassuringly. “I believe in you.”

He turned back to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “Foxes are known to lie. Are you lying to me?”

You smiled and shook your head. “No.”

“Then,” he said determinedly as he jumped up to his feet, his voice full of the determination you were relieved to hear, “let’s be on our way.” He extended his hand down to you, and you took it.


	6. Little Ninja || 小忍者

The ceremony went without a hitch. Ling spoke to the hundreds of thousands people without so much as a waver in his voice and you had to suck back proud tears as not to ruin your make-up. Afterwards, you were granted the opportunity to bathe and change into clothes that actually let you move. It was just before midday when the secured palanquin finally set off with the retainers on horseback. As you rode, you could see Lan Fan hunched over in pain, despite the white mask obscuring her facial expression. Yours, personally, had been fashioned after a fox—most likely as some sort of practical joke—but you wore it out of respect to the clan’s tradition. 

“Pains?” you asked gently, riding up next to her. She was born shortly after Ling and was another one of his closest vassals. She’d also grown up to be like a little sister to you, though the legal term would be niece, since her grandfather had been the one to adopt you officially. 

“Yes,” she muttered bitterly, before her eyes widened. Hastily, she shook her head. “I mean, no. I’m fine!”

You chuckled slightly. “There’s no need to put up a strong front in front of me. I’m not the old man. Here.”

You reached inside your sleeve and tugged out a sprig of dried herb. You also spat out a pill that was kept in your back teeth, and handed them both to her. She accepted it from you warily, turning the compacted medicine over in her hand gingerly.

“It’s a natural painkiller. It will help with the cramps. As for riding, try to keep on the straight path, and avoid the rocks.” 

You couldn’t tell her expression, but her silence made you guess that she was either impressed or suspicious.

“How do you know all of these things, Hu Li? Did Fu teach you?” 

“No,” you admitted honestly with a bit of a guilty tone, “he did not.”

“Then where did you learn?”

“There was an alkahestrist at the palace,” you lied, “he left not too long after you were born, but it was from him that I learnt about herb and medicine. Now, remember to drink lots of water. These are just the pains a woman must carry.” You gave her one last look of sympathy before spurring forwards slightly, slipping past the guard to the palanquin. There had been no alkahestrist, or teacher; you just _knew_. Once, you had frantically slapped berries out of a young Ling’s hand, knowing somehow that they were poisonous without ever having seen them before in your life. Flowers, too. They stuck out to you and each had an assigned meaning to them, but you didn’t know _how_ you knew. You must have learnt it from the times before waking up in Yao territory so many years ago, but where? After a while you had decided to keep these discoveries about your knowledge to yourself, as you were starting to grow very afraid of who you might’ve been.

“Foxy, that you?”

Ling’s head peeked out from the scarlet curtain and you gave him a little wave.

“Nice speech,” you congratulated, keeping your voice low. “I’m surprised you didn’t mess up the big words.”

“Hey, I’m not stupid.” He pouted at you childishly and you had the urge to reach out and tousle his dark hair. He surprised you with the next nonchalant statement: “it’s going to rain.”

“It is?” You looked up and sure enough, there were bruised clouds settling overhead, fat and dark with a brewing storm. You sighed irritably. Riding in mud was dangerous, not to mention that there was the horrid feeling of being soaked through and cold. “You’re lucky you get to sit there all high and mighty while us commoners suffer, Prince.”

“Why don’t you come to sit next to me, Princess?”

You laughed scornfully at the offer but was immensely grateful for the mask obscuring your reddening cheeks.

“Please, why would I want to sit by a baby like you?” With that, you dropped behind, your cheeks still burning with the memory of his smug grin.

\---

The journey was halted as the rain became too heavy to safely navigate the mountain passages. You sat, shielded somewhat by the makeshift tent the guard had set up for Ling. The downpour was aggressive. Water fell and rose back up to become mist, creating a low fog that created an impenetrable and stifling humidity. Your black clothes were heavy and you pulled at your collar, desperately trying to fan yourself.

“I’m hungry,” Ling whined at you, resting his chin on his knees. You rolled your eyes.

“How can you be hungry? You just ate.”

“That was then, and this is now. I’m _hungry_.”

A sigh escaped you and you clambered to your feet. “Fine, fine. I have some dried persimmon, will that be fine?”

“Thank you,” he chirped, self-satisfied. The conceited grin might as well be etched onto his face forever. Your horse, carrying the supplies, was grazing a few metres away and you flipped up your hood, making sure your loud groan was audible to the young lord. 

The chaos erupted once your back was turned.

You whirled, food forgotten as a shuriken fell into your hand from your sleeve. Bandits from all around screamed and yelled derogatory terms in a foreign dialect, and panic seized you for a moment when you realized how outnumbered you were. Fu and the other vassals had moved forwards to scout the mountain range, and half of the guards had gone in search of another path. You watched numbly as a soldier had his heart pierced with a rudimentary spear crafted out of a branch and obsidian. The soldier was felled immediately and you felt sick, watching his blood trail away into the watery soil. Dead, just like that. You didn’t know his name, whether he had a family to return to… he was already too far gone. 

“Ling!” you screamed, honourifics forgotten. He was the obvious target and the men were streaming towards him, spurred on with the sight of freshly spilled blood. You managed to let a shuriken loose, slicing open a man’s outstretched hand as he tried to reach for your lord. The attacker hissed with pain and drew his hand back, only to have another take his place. There were too many of them and your arms were pinned immediately, your teeth gnashing against mud and gravel as the man holding you shoved you down. “Ling!” you screeched again, thrashing and receiving a blow to your skull for the effort. The fragile mask on your face cracked and broke into pieces, only serving to harm you further, slicing the skin of your brow.

You didn’t see what happened next, but you could only faintly hear him call your name as if he was trying to wake you up for a dream. _Get up, Hu Li..._ You knew that you had to and you tried, but the sleep was so welcoming, and so coaxing…

Fu shook you out of it violently. You opened your eyes groggily, wiping rainwater and blood from your face, feeling the droplets splatter against your cool skin heavily.

“What happened to you, Hu Li?! You endangered the young lord!”

He yelled at you, spittle flying off his lip before you could even open your mouth. You whimpered slightly in response. You had never been on the receiving end of the heat of Fu’s rage, and you were starting to realize why people feared him so much.

“…and what were you thinking, teaching the young lord a disgusting move like that? Treachery! If Ling had executed it properly, he would be a murderer!”

“What?” you whispered weakly, finally finding the strength to reply.

“The moves of ninja. How could you stoop so low? Where did you learn such dastardly things? I can’t believe it, Hu Li… how could you?”

Your head spun and you slapped your cheeks to bring yourself to alertness. Ling was cordoned off from you, surrounded by a ring of guards. The bandits were all apprehended and restrained, and the ones awake muttered angrily. One noticed you staring and spat.

“How much they pay you, little ninja?” he hissed through broken teeth, switching to the standard tongue so that you could understand. You flinched at the statement, but he kept talking, his voice high and hysterical. “How many pearls they promise you, dirty rat? Your village proud of you? Esteemed killer?”

“I… I’m not…”

“Get up.” Fu grabbed your collar and hoisted you to your feet, an expression of pure fury written across his usually warm features. “If you leave the young lord’s side again, you’ll have Hell to pay.”

“Yessir,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t get the bandit’s voice out of your head.

_Little ninja. Esteemed killer._

You shuddered, unaware of Ling’s stare on your back.


	7. Red Parasol || 紅傘

Fu was still furious with you, and the anger emanating from him practically rippled the air. The journey was further delayed to give the injured guards much needed rest, and the ones that had died were buried a short ways away. You sat in the rain, depressed and anxious, before the abrupt halt of downpour made you look up. Ling held a red parasol over you, his expression serious. 

“Hu Li.”

You tried to ignore him by pretending that you didn’t hear, your head bowed forwards in shame. 

“ _Hu Li._ ”

Again you did not respond, staring down at the ground. Ling took this as initiative and crouched, reaching forwards, grasping your chin to forcibly turn your head towards him.

“What are you doing?” you yelped, but you did nothing to release yourself from his grasp. He let go himself, a frown creasing his young features.

“You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

He had you there. You sighed and looked down again, biting the inside of your cheek.

“If you hadn’t learnt it from me…”

“Then I could very well be dead,” he said simply, making your attention snap back up.

“That’s not true,” you said hoarsely, but he shook his head.

“You didn’t know, right? You didn’t know that it was a ninja move?”

“No,” you admitted, “I didn’t. I didn’t know it was designed to kill…”

“Then you’re not to blame.”

His nonchalant tone was starting to annoy you and you looked up again, your eyes narrow.

“What are you trying to justify my actions for?” you spat, “it’s not your place to defend people so far below you. Just let me accept my punishment, will you?”

“No,” he said firmly, surprising you, “I won’t.” Then his gaze softened. “It’s your duty to protect me, and I’m always going to be grateful for that. But it’s only fair that I protect you, too. Our roles have to be switched sometimes.”

“You’re being stupid. You’re a prince of Xing—what makes you think that you have to protect _me_ …?”

“It’s _because_ I’m the prince. A king is nothing without his people.” He extended a hand. “Come on. You’re still injured.”

You touched the laceration where your mask had cut you instinctively, saying nothing as it stung irritably. You sighed slightly, tears welling in your eyes.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Ling urged, his tone gentle. “I didn’t actually kill him, so no harm was done.”

“That’s not it,” you said glumly, ignoring his still outstretched hand. “Why did I know it in the first place? And why did I forget…? Who am I?” You shook your head. “I am a danger to you. I shouldn’t be around you, much less your vassal…”

“You’re the idiot here,” he said yanking you up by your elbow without waiting for further response. You stumbled on your feet as he led you towards the alkahestrist, who was currently healing one of the elder guards. “If you keep talking like that, maybe I’ll have to punish you myself.”

“Don’t you get it?” you asked, trailing behind with plodding and reluctant footsteps. “What if they’re right, and I am from a ninja village? Trained to kill? What’ll you do then?”

He stopped and whirled around to look at you, his face determined and calm.

“Nothing.”

You almost laughed. “ _Nothing_? So, even if the truth is that I’m a killer, you’ll do nothing?”

“Well, of course I’ll do something. Ninjas do work for fees and nothing else, right? So if you’re a ninja, all I have to do is hire you. As emperor, I’ll have more pearls in my fist than in all the oceans.”

“You’re _kidding_ me,” you argued with exasperation, “I’m telling you that I might be an assassin, and you’re just _okay_ with that?!”

“Yes. You’ve already proven your loyalty to me. I don’t care about anything else.”

He started dragging you again and you let him, the hot tears on your cheeks melting with the rain… and whether those tears were of joy or despair, you weren’t even sure. But you were sure of Ling’s strong hold on you, and you supposed that you were grateful for that.


	8. Man || 男子

Afterwards, Ling had left you to your own devices, and you wallowed in self-loathing and fear. You couldn’t help but recall your earliest memory, of the guardsmen asking who you were. Now, you would answer that you were Fu Hu Li, a retainer of the 12th prince of Xing… but now, you were starting to wonder if that was going to be a thing of the past, too.

No other assassination attempts were made and the remaining group made it to the capital safely. The breeze was heavily perfumed with the scent of flowers from the orchards, and everything felt different. There were rice paddy workers and farmers working diligently on their crops; there were mountains, there were clouds, like home—but everything had an air of regality that was absent from the territories of the Yao clan. The capital had not always been here, but the capital always followed the emperor, and so the sprawling metropolis had been reborn as the heart of Xing. You couldn’t help but be in awe at the infrastructure. The temples were grand and the famous wall sprawled on and on like it never ended.

“The ceremony will begin soon,” Fu said to you. He had calmed down considerably and shown forgiveness, but you could tell that he was still suspicious of you. You didn’t blame him. The only one you blamed was yourself.

“With all the heirs collected at the capital, we must be on guard,” you mused, touching your face sullenly. The absence of the mask made you feel vulnerable. Fu reached over and ruffled your hair affectionately. 

“We will be all right. Our top priority is seeing to the young lord.”

“Right,” you agreed enthusiastically. You decided to cast away your emotions and adopt the cool face of a guard. That was who you were, now. You’d return to your suffering persona later—right now, you were the guard of a prince, and his life was infinitely more valuable than yours would ever be. 

As the Yao clan filed into the palace, you were led into a corridor. Fu granted you time to rest and you practically threw your bags and packing into the room you’d be sharing with Lan Fan and Fu. The bedding was modest, but still more comfortable than a horse’s ass, and you lay down in it gratefully. Your eyes closed instantly. Sleep was just on your fingertips when a draft brushed hairs across your forehead. You flinched and rolled over, only to find something there—somebody. Your eyes shot open and a kunai was in your hand, about ready to be thrown into the heart of your assailant when a familiar yell woke you up completely.

“Hu Li, jeez! It’s me!”

“Ling?” you questioned incredulously. Sure enough, it was the young lord, smiling sheepishly in _your_ bedding. You groaned and tossed the deadly weapon to the side. “Don’t you know not to scare me like that? What are you even doing here? You should be resting in your own room.”

“Yeah, but it’s lonely there. And I wanted to talk.”

“Fine. Talk.” You were still disgruntled by how he seemed to think he could waltz around wherever he went. However, his silence made you realize his concerns ran deeper than being bored and you turned to look at him fully. He was looking elsewhere thoughtfully, his deep brown eyes flickering dimly in the lamp light. 

“I’m going to meet all my brothers and sisters. Only one of us is going to take the throne. What about everybody else…? If I don’t make it, we might all perish. But what if the Chen clan doesn’t cut it, either? They’ve got 4 million people in their clan. _Four million_ … It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You’re worried,” you realized. You sighed through your nose and scooted back towards him, gently resting his forehead against your shoulder. To your immense surprise the cloth of your tunic was immediately soaked through with warm tears—but you said nothing, your hands rubbing his back the way you had soothed him as a child. He was nearing his teenage years and soon, he could be crowned, with the way the Emperor’s health seemed to be turning. Anything was possible. 

“I’m guilty,” he corrected. “What happens if I _do_ take the throne and… people die because I wasn’t good enough?”

“That won’t happen,” you insisted. You pulled him away and held him by the shoulders so you could look at him; really _look_. His face had lost the fat from his childhood already and he had grown so tall, having to hunch to meet your eyes. His jaw was sharp and his angular Xingese eyes betrayed nothing but regality and intelligence. He was already changed from when you had tied the white ribbon. He was a man. You were confident when you spoke. 

“You… will be the best Emperor Xing has seen. I know it.”

“You promise?” he asked in a quiet voice. You pressed your lips together.

“I don’t like making promises I can’t keep. Anything… can happen.”

“Right.” He sighed before perking up slightly, your hands still on his shoulders. He took one off and clasped it in his larger hands. “How about you promise me that you’ll always stay by my side?”

You knew it and he knew it. It was yet another promise you might not be able to keep.

Still, you smiled, and nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal.”


	9. Drunken || 醉

Ling’s birthday had always been an auspicious event of great festivities. All across the land, the clansmen would celebrate the birthday of the young Lord. Although you still were unsure of when your real birthday was, your honourary one had still been shifted onto the same day as Ling’s. He was to turn 15 and you, 18. You hadn’t had a coming-of-age ceremony when you were 15, which was fine by you, because you didn’t even know what that meant anyways. You were completely happy with everybody’s attention turned to Ling, too. Being a guard of a prince meant that you were often trying to avoid prying eyes. 

Of course, Ling would have none of that, and insisted on being as troublesome as he could be.

“Hu Li!” he snapped, somehow spotting you trying to sneak out of the celebrations despite using your best escape tactics. You froze in your steps and felt his hand on your hood, yanking you back to the seat beside him. Your feet skittered on the ground. He sat you back down like he might a doll and poured you another cup of rice spirit.

“Drink!” he said cheerily, in a way that you knew you had to interpret as an order. You scowled irritably to show your discontent but obeyed, sipping at the liquor. It was sweet and light, but somehow you had missed the gene for tolerance, and your face grew flushed practically a second later. He laughed at you and poured you another as you coughed, hot flames licking your throat.

“My lord, please…”

“No can do. Our birthday, my rules. Drink up, Foxy!”

You did, but this time, you didn’t feel so bad about it. Celebrations were uproarious, refusing to die down until finally the people died, falling into deep drunken slumbers. Conversations turned to snores. Ling had a stomach of steel—or perhaps he was cheeky enough to be disguising his liquor as sugar water instead—but either way, you were falling over yourself, requiring the young Lord to cart you back to your room.

“This isn’t the way it should be,” you slurred. “Yer’ the lord, you ain’t gotta carry me like this…”

“Hu Li, you’re cute when you’re drunk.” His body was strong from years of hard, imperial training and he had no problem at all dragging your sorry state through the halls. You hiccupped, staggering against him, both enjoying the comfort of his warmth and chiding yourself for relying on your liege.

“I ain’t drunk! You are!” you protested.

“Okay, okay. Here’s your room.”

He settled you in place in your bedding, tucking your blankets up to your chin. You were too tired to remove your outerwear and your eyelids were heavy, dull fire still coursing through your pounding blood. Before you could doze off, Ling made a noise, and you opened an eye.

“Somebody got you a present.”

“Whassat?” You sat up slightly as he approached your bedding again, holding something up. You squinted and saw another mask, shaped like a fox—only this one was more beautiful than the last, careful paint lining the expensive porcelain. Your brow furrowed.

“Who’s it from?” he asked, turning it over gently in his hands. You yawned, curious as well, but not wanting to think about it.

“Dunno…”

“Okay, well, I’ll leave it here.” He placed the mask far away from you so that you wouldn’t shatter it in your drunk fumbling. Your eyes were closed but you fought the tide of sleep, groaning slightly.

“You need to go back… to the celebrations… it’s your birthday.”

“It’s yours too. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Is that okay?”

A sober you would’ve given him a glare and told him to leave, shooing him out of your room. But you were tired and the alcohol dulled your logic, giving your whimpering emotions free reign. You reached out and felt the touch of his hand, curling your fingers around his weakly.

“Yeah, ‘kay.”

He laughed again, reaching forwards with another hand and smoothing back your frazzled hair. You leant into his touch, inhaling deeply. Although you still smelled the sweetness of the spirit, you caught whiffs of smokey incense and pine. Ling had a distinctive scent to him and it comforted you.

“Go to sleep, Little Empress.”

“I’m older than you…”

You weren’t sure if the words made it out of your head or not, but his final order to you was too alluring to disobey. Sleep came easy for you.

When your hand fell away from his, he repositioned the blanket around you fondly. It was true; you were older. But Ling had already vowed to you that he would use his determination to step the gap in age. Everybody else saw his love for you as a joke, but he couldn’t see it as anything but genuine. You had been the one girl—woman—in his life from the start. You had carried him, comforted him, and protected him. He would return the favour ten fold.

The mask gleamed in the moonlight as he slid the door shut behind him. The mark of his kiss blazed on your forehead, but the cool white china of the mask seemed to absorb all heat left behind in the room. In your sleep, you shivered.


	10. Goodbye || 再見

As a candidate for the throne, Ling underwent vigorous studies tended to by the best and brightest Yao scholars. Nothing was left out of his schedule. He studied Xingese history as well as politics, and then some stranger subjects such as calligraphy and even botany. He had special martial arts instructors, too, but always refused their tutelage, preferring to study under Fu. Fu complained about this, citing old age and a lack of time, but you knew that the old man was secretly relieved to be the one teaching his charge. But, although Ling was far from stupid, he was still incompetent, the sole reason being his laziness.

“If you put some effort into it, you wouldn’t be struggling!” you chided as he sighed loudly to show his discontent. He lay on his stomach, his brush swirling around the ink stone lazily as you caught him procrastinating on his homework (as always) during your rounds. He glanced up from the parchment and frowned, rubbing a spot of charcoal black ink off of his chin as he grumbled.

“ _You_ try to be interested in a million subjects that are straight-up _boring_.” He sat up, crossing his arms haughtily. “All the old guys think they can boss me around, too. Who do they think they are? I’m a prince, after all!”

“A spoiled one,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you replied sweetly, a tiny grin on your face. He scowled at you but gestured down to the thin sheets of paper.

“I totally get it, too, but he’s making me write out a whole essay in Amestrian. Why bother?”

“Amestrian…” you mused. The most you knew of the Amestrian tongue were a couple of cities, as well as the names of a few wars. The west wasn’t familiar to you and was merely a blotch on the map that you disregarded. “Commoners don’t get to learn the language. You should feel privileged.”

“Privileged or burdened?” he groaned. He perked up suddenly and started to gesture to you, beckoning you closer. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it, Ling?”

“You said you don’t know any Amestrian? Maybe if I teach you as I write this essay, it’ll be less boring.”

“Or you just want to show off that you’re smarter than me,” you said wryly, rolling your eyes. Still, you didn’t want to turn down an opportunity to spend time with Ling that wasn’t restricted to guard duty. As he grew older it became more pertinent that his time as lordship could be soon, and you were starting to see less and less of him. The times that he used to fit in your arms seemed so long ago. You scooted over and sat next to him on your legs.

“You know 再見, right?”

“Of course,” you replied a bit indignantly, offended that he might think that you didn’t. “Even children know that.”

“In Amestrian,” he continued, his brush strokes carefully painting out the characters in a refined way that your chicken scratches could not begin to compare to, “it translates to ‘again see’.”

“All right,” you agreed, finding it strange but accepting it. His voice was different in Amestrian, but still the same in a way you couldn’t put your finger on. A shudder went down your spine as you listened to him speak. 

“In Xingese, we say zài jiàn to say goodbye. It’s basically like ‘see you again later’. Right?”

“Yes.”

“But…” he began to write out unfamiliar Amestrian characters, their rounded edges looking strange enough to be a child’s feverish painting to you. 

“Farewell,” he said softly, suddenly looking up to you, “means goodbye forever.”

“That’s sad,” you realized, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes had always looked black, a sheen of cool warmth behind them making your heart pick up a few paces. It was like looking out onto a lake during the night, with only the moon’s light to disturb the midnight surface. There were ripples in those eyes. Suddenly he was leaning closer and your eyes shut fast, and you were afraid but anticipating—

“Master Ling?”

With the motions of a kicked cat you leapt away to your feet, standing at attention. One of Ling’s teachers poked his head into the room, frowning when he saw Ling busily pretending to be busy.

“I expect to hear you dictate your essay by sundown, young Lord,” the old man sneered in a tone that connoted ‘I hope you’ll even finish’. “It has been far long enough.”

Ling scowled, scratching his head absent-mindedly.

“Yeah, fine.”

His teacher harrumphed but left the door slightly ajar. Your heart was racing faster than you had ever known it to and you realized Ling was staring at you, his expression unreadable in your panicked state. You swallowed thickly.

“I’ll take my leave,” you managed, darting out of the room before you burst because of your tumbling emotions. Ling watched you leave, the sliding door nearly splintering with the force that you used to slam it shut.

“See you later...” he mumbled, touching his fingers to his chest, feeling the beat of his own heart jittering underneath.


	11. I Love You || 我爱你

After almost kissing your liege, you couldn’t face him. You managed to get Lan Fan to cover your shifts, and although she asked questions, she respected you enough to accept, grudgingly, when she realized you weren’t going to talk. You spent your days lurking in the gardens, your teeth set on edge every time you heard his name. You wondered if he’d forget about it. You wondered if you _wanted_ him to forget about it, and then you wondered why you were wondering so hard.

“He’s an heir to the throne… I’m a filthy commoner… there’s no reason why I should be feeling like this… our relationship is purely professional… I am his servant… not his Empress…”

It was a mantra that you repeated to yourself over and over as you worked on strengthening your mind, standing underneath one of the holy waterfalls located four kilometers west of the palace. The water was as cold as ice and the force buckled your knees, but you resisted, muttering to yourself. At one point a minnow jumped into your mouth, as if tasting the bullshit. 

You loved him. No amount of holy water or praying could get you to change the truth. 

Opening your eyes, you peered through the rainbow-streaked mist to the sky. The sun was high and you had to be heading back soon if you were to return in time for the evening feast. Although you wished that you could’ve drowned yourself instead, you knew that Ling, as well as other nobles would need maximum security, and Fu would have your head if you didn’t show. Well, maybe you shouldn’t show up then, if Fu would do you the favour. 

Still, you trudged out of the water, rivulets trailing down your back. You retrieved your clothes, unaware that you were not alone, and that a pair of eyes watched you as you sighed.

\---

You made it back to the palace in time to change and take your position. Luckily, Fu asked you to do undercover reconnaissance on the rooftop posts rather than in the actual hall. That way, you could avoid Ling. 

But as you were walking to your station, you heard a great crash and calamity erupt in the kitchens. For a moment you assumed that a cook had merely dropped a plate, but then you heard an eruption of panicked screaming.

“He’s dead!”

That got your attention. You backtracked and raced into the kitchen, your eyes darting around from ghostly pale face to face. Your gaze fell to the boy convulsing on the floor, white froth at his lips. A tray of food and a china bowl lay broken at his side. 

You pushed aside a pair of still-screaming maids and checked the boy’s pulse. It was erratic, weak, and much too fast and you knew that he wouldn’t survive for long. He was still choking loudly and his hand shot up, grasping your wrist as you took it away from his neck. His eyes bulged out of his head as the other hand slapped the ground for air. He couldn’t have been more than nine.

He died with his hand still around yours.

“Whose food was he tasting?” you asked coldly, distancing yourself by shutting off your emotions. You swiped the boy’s eyes shut, careful to avoid touching him anywhere else. At your side, the silver chopsticks he had presumably been using were burnt black.

“T-the young Lord’s,” a cook gasped, shaking. “M-M-Master Yao Ling’s dish.”

Your jaw tensed and you pulled yourself swiftly out of the boy’s deathly grasp.

\---

There was no escaping it now. Fu put Lan Fan on investigating the culprit and ordered you to stay by his side at all times. The air was tense and thick as scalding rice porridge, hard to breathe in and even harder to tolerate. Still, he was silent, not saying a thing.

“That could’ve been me.”

Startled by his sudden words, you jumped, looking at him. He was still staring up at the moon outside of his balcony, motionless, and most importantly facing away from you. You shifted, uncomfortably, the bruising on your wrist from how tightly the boy had grasped you starting to ache.

“It wasn’t, though.”

“It wasn’t… because that boy died for me. I didn’t even know his name. What kind of person… has a _kid_ die for them… and not even know their name?”

Suddenly realizing that things were worse than you had initially believed, you inhaled sharply to steel your resolve. Your emotions weren’t important. Your comfort would always be sacrificed. _He_ was the one who was important—and if you loved him, you had to be okay with the fact that he would never return it. Even if that meant you weren’t okay with it now. 

You sat at his side and stole a glance at his face for the first time in weeks. You were surprised to see shiny twin trails down the side of his cheeks. Noticing you noticing him, he swiped the tears away with his sleeves.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered hoarsely, clearing his throat. “I didn’t… nobody should be getting hurt for my sake.”

“If it were me, I would be glad.” You took your own sleeve and pressed it against his nose, drying tears he had missed. His eyes widened as you took your hand away, your gaze fluttering to the floor shamefully. Still, you continued, your words genuine and firm. “Sacrifices… they must be made.”

“But I didn’t even know his name,” Ling protested hotly. “What kind of Emperor gets people to die for him, and then he doesn’t even know their name? Did the boy have a family? Was he an orphan? I don’t know. I _should_ know. But I don't.”

“Ling…” you realized you were saying his name before you could stop yourself. 

“If _I_ were to be poisoned,” he said suddenly, looking up. “I wouldn’t hesitate for you. You know this, right?”

“You know you can’t just say that,” you replied, just as passionately, your voice raising somewhat. “Your royal imperial blood isn’t a joke. It’s not trash to be thrown away!”

“You saying you’re trash, then?”

“I’m… yes, I am! I’m saying, Ling, you need to realise that I’m not as important as you are. And you need to realise it now.” You looked away quickly and bit your tongue, directing the pain in your heart somewhere else.

“You _are_ ,” he said, suddenly quiet. “You are to me.”

“Ling, please.” Your eyes were shut and the walls you had trained yourself to build were crumbling, dissolving as tears were welling. “Please, no, don’t say that to me. _Please_.”

“Why not?” he demanded, suddenly abandoning his sullen mood and shifting to righteous anger. “I’m fifteen. I’m a man, and I’ve made myself clear. Hu Li, you _know_ how I feel. It’s not a joke. I’m not saying it lightly when I say it.” He took a second to breathe and before you could tell him to stop, he said resolutely, 

“I love you.”

“I…”

You tried to tell him. ‘No, it’s not right’ or ‘I don’t love you back’ or any other lie that would get him away from you. He needed to pursue higher things than you; he needed to _get away from you_. You knew this. 

But you were too weak to say anything.

“I love you,” he repeated softly, and your tears finally fell. He reached forwards and touched your face, despite your flinching. His hands were gentle against your cold skin as he dried your tears. “Do you understand?”

“We can’t,” you pleaded, fully aware that this was your last chance at saving him. “Ling, you can’t. This… it can’t…”

“I love you.”

He leant forwards to close the gap and kissed you, his lips meeting yours with an experience you didn’t know he had. He coaxed your lips open, his taste sweet but foreign, and you knew then that you’d failed for life.

“Young Lord!”

You jumped away, covering your mouth and your face as somebody stormed into his room. It was Fu, his eyes wild.

“I’m alive,” Ling said breathlessly, also shoving his sleeve to his face. “I didn’t get poisoned, old man. I know how much you wished I did—”

“That’s not it!” Fu’s Northern dialect of Xingese slipped through and was hard to understand as the man spoke fervently, abandoning his usual grace as his hands gestured wildly. “The—Ling! The—your father—the Emperor… he’s _ill_. The Emperor is ill!”

Suddenly, nothing mattered. You could taste him still, feel his warmth on your face—but not even that could compare to the chill you got when you realized that just when you had him…

You’d be losing him.


	12. Dao || 刀

You didn’t know if it was heartbreak or plague, but you were ill.

It hadn’t been serious at first. It was a simple cold, something you’d had before—a throbbing headache, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose. You drank tea and medicine and waited to get better. But you did not.

By the fifth day, you had developed harrowing coughs, one that drew blood to your mouth with an iron taste you hated. By the second week you could scarcely move from your bedding.

With the news that the Emperor was falling ill, the heirs were swiftly rushed to the capital. But you couldn’t go. If you had it your way, you would’ve fought the illness and gone anyways, but Fu quite literally was able to gently push you back into bed and pin you down with nothing more than a heavy blanket. It had never been harder to hear ‘you must stay here’ than it was now, in this moment, when you knew that Ling needed you. He had been forbidden to see you, as well, the risk of infection too serious.

So you waited, wondering distantly if you’d be dead before he got back.

Despite your deteriorated condition, you held through, managing to walk laps around your room. Ling returned from the capital a week later, trumpets announcing his arrival. When your door slid open, you looked up with your heart in your throat—but it was merely Lan Fan.

Sensing your disapproval, her lips pressed together in a tight smile. She had probably known about Ling’s feelings—perhaps yours as well, despite your best attempts to conceal them—from a young age. Meekly, she apologized.

“I’m sorry I’m not the young lord,” she said with humour. You slumped back into your bedding and waved her off, feeling embarrassed for your own idiocy.

“How are things at the capital?”

“Not good,” she said, her tone suddenly warping into a serious one. “The Emperor has a year or so left before he passes, and that’s only if he is to be blessed. That means that the Young Lord only has a couple of months, at best, to take the throne.”

“Take the throne…” you repeated musingly. You had known your whole life that his sole purpose of birth was to be an heir to the empire. Still, it felt like it had come too early, and now you weren’t sure what to do or how to feel.

“Are you still ill, Hu Li?”

“No,” you lied. To punish you, your thin and weak body shook as a wave of coughs attacked you. Lan Fan rushed forwards and propped you up, massaging a cool cloth to your forehead and grimacing as she wiped blood from your mouth.

“The young lord… Ling… he has a plan.”

“What?” you asked, raspy, staring at her with wild eyes. You gripped her wrist tightly. “He does? What is he going to do?”

“He plans to search for immortality in Amestris. The West.”

“Ames… no, he can’t possibly…!” The full realisation of his burden was becoming heavy on you, and you could only imagine what he was feeling. In a few months time, the entire livelihood of the Yao clan—rich, poor, young and old—would depend on him.

“We leave in a week,” Lan Fan said, gently taking your hand off her wrist and placing it in hers. She was like your younger sister all your life, but now she was coaching you like a mother you never had, holding you upright. “And you are not to come.”

“No, that’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “I’m his vassal, I have to _be_ there—”

“You’re no good to him dead,” she said shortly, shutting you up. Her wide brown eyes that had always been so innocent were stern and you could see Fu’s blood coursing through her. “He loves you, and if you die because you hadn’t been resting, do you know what that would do to him?”

“Lan Fan…”

“You have to stay and get better. You have to give him another reason to move forwards. And I swear an oath to you on my honour that I will protect him with my life.”

With tears running rivulets down your eyes, the most you could do was squeeze her hand weakly. Choking out an almost pathetic sob, you fell back into your bedding.

“Protect him with _both_ our lives,” you whispered. “Please.”

\---

“L…ing.”

He whirled around at the sound of your voice, eyes widening with recognition—and then horror. Fu made a noise of discontent atop his horse as you hobbled into the courtyard. It was dark. His passage to Amestris would not be easy and it would be too dangerous to cause a scene—Lan Fan had told you about the secret exit plan, but you were weak, and you almost fell to your knees before he rushed forwards and caught you. 

“Young Lord, she is _ill_ —”

“I don’t care,” Ling snapped. You’d held a cloth to your mouth as if that might prevent the spread of pathogens, but you knew you were risking him, and you hated that. But you had to see him one last time. It was selfish, but you had lived a whole life of selflessness, and you needed this. You hadn’t seen him in a while but already he seemed so changed, his face rugged and his eyes gleaming with new purpose. 

“Don’t do stupid things,” you rasped as he held you up, his arms supporting your entire weight. “Don’t make Lan Fan or Fu or me worry. Don’t go off and try to get yourself killed. You hear me? I’m here waiting—we’re all waiting—so don’t do… stupid things.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, aware that the moon was rising and that there was little time to talk. Hoof beats hit the road and you knew Lan Fan and Fu were departing early to give some remnant of privacy. Alone in the cool white moonlight, his arms around you… you felt as if you and Ling were having some sort of tryst. It was funny, even.

“I won’t,” Ling continued, his voice shaking. “So you… please, be here when I come back. I want your face to be the first thing I see when I come back with the secret to immortality. My father might be dying but you… you understand, don’t you?”

“I…” You knew that you couldn’t guarantee it. Your blood was slowing in your veins and even breathing was becoming a trial—but his face was so grief stricken that you began to nod, lying to both yourself and him under the moon. “Yes. I’ll be here. I’ll be the first person you see when you come back home. So you have to.”

“Okay. …okay.” He seemed to be challenging himself to let go of you, but he didn’t. Your hands clenched the bright yellow cloth of his shirt.

“Wait, I brought this to you.” Almost forgetting in your delirium, you reached into your kimono and pulled out the dao you’d held for years. It was the weapon they’d found on your body when they’d found you, dying and alone and a ghost of what you had been. You might’ve been dying now, but now you knew who you were, and you knew that you were not alone.

You pressed it into his hand, slumping as you lost his support. Ling grabbed it from you and steadied you as you struggled to breathe. Wheezing, you repeated what you’d said before. “Don’t do stupid things… like getting killed.”

“And you don’t do stupid things like dying, either.” He bounced the sword in his hand, testing its weight with a stiff nod. You nodded back.

“Okay.”

“Remember what I taught you earlier?” he said suddenly, desperately. His words were jumbled as he tried to speak quickly, his horse whinnying irritably. “That farewell means goodbye forever, but zai jian means see you again?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“This isn’t farewell. You hear me? This is _not_ farewell. So you be here when I return, and I’ll give you your dao back. Okay? That is an order.”

You smiled dryly. “I can’t… refuse a direct… order from the Emperor… can I, now?”

Despite the tears he smiled back. He pulled you close and you were too weak to fight him, and his lips were suddenly across yours, that taste back on your tongue.

“I’m plagued!” you gasped, slapping your hand on him angrily. “If you get ill, I could never forgive mys—!”

“For once,” he reprimanded tiredly, “would you shut up and let me kiss you?”

So he did. Under the moonlight, two lovers kissed on their tryst. In that moment you felt almost healed. But then he left, and you were weak again, worse off than before as he turned away. When he mounted his horse and rode off, he did not look back, but the blade was strapped to his back in plain sight.

“I’ll see you again,” you breathed. “Whether or not you see me.”


	13. Obligation || 義務

Out of all the illnesses it could have been, you should have suspected poison first.

It hit you as a revelation. You’d always been strong and healthy, but now you were at Death’s door—there was no other option. Somebody wanted you to be dead. 

Who?

That didn’t matter. You were able to find out very, very soon.

\---

You awoke with a jolt, your dreams having been hazy and feverish. They dissipated as soon as you opened your eyes. Still, you could just barely make out the remnants of Ling’s pained smile, the one he gave when he was being royal and imperial and didn’t want anybody to know that he was hurting.

The ceiling was unfamiliar. 

“Careful, girl. Move too much and you will disturb the healing power of the Dragon’s Pulse.”

Your head whipped to the side as an old woman sat, carefully peeling bark. She didn’t look familiar, but for some reason you recognized her—perhaps you had passed her by in the village or at the palace? She had a tight bun that pulled her face taut, and despite the silver tones of her hair, she looked incredibly young. Feeling your gaze, she looked up, and you looked away.

“Where am I? Where have you taken me?”

You were in a cold sweat and breathing hard. You’d known for a while that you wouldn’t be able to make it far, and realizing that you’d just been kidnapped was not making it any easier. You struggled to sit up, shaking, but even that was too much and splotchy black rushed your vision. Your eyelids twitched desperately and you weren’t even able to fight as the woman laid you back down.

“Sleep,” she breathed. “The poison will take much time to rid your system. The only reason you are not yet dead is because you are strong, [Name]. I was the one to raise you, after all.”

“[Name]… what are you talking about? That’s not my… my name is… you didn’t raise me…”

“Sleep.”

As if she’d bewitched you, your eyes slid shut, and you weren’t able to refute her claim of who you were. 

When you woke again, you felt better. When you sat up, you didn’t feel as if you’d died. Warily, you cast your gaze to your side where the woman still sat, peeling bark.

“Who are you? Why have you taken me? If you’re trying to get close to the Young Lord, killing me will do nothing.” It was a lie. If Ling had known that you’d been abducted, the idiot would have come running from the hills. But she didn’t need to know about Ling’s only weakness.

“Who am I… or who are you? Why have I taken you or why have you returned?” The woman spoke cryptically in an awfully poetic way, her thin fingers splitting brown bark as easily as a knife through fat. Her nails were eerily long and sharpened, painted red like blood, and when she spoke, her voice reverberated deep inside your chest as if she were speaking in your head. 

“Why did you heal me?” you pressed, determined to at least get some answers. You laid a hand over your heart, feeling that the pulse was much stronger. Your chi was regaining its strength, too, but you couldn’t feel anything coming from the woman. She was good at hiding it. Sneering, you spoke to her acridly. “Well, you’re a villain, aren’t you?”

“You are incorrect, my dear,” she replied lazily, looking up. Her fingers continued to shred the bark and you smelt a faint earthy aroma coming off of the wood. You recognized it.

“I know that,” you said stupidly, blurting it out. “That’s—”

“A healing agent to cure poison. Yes. It seems you have not forgetting all of your training, young one.”

“Training,” you repeated dubiously. “Training for _what_? You still haven’t told me why I’m here, where we are, who you are—”

“Training…” she interrupted smoothly, not even glancing up as she spoke. “To kill.”

She ignored your horrified look, continuing to peel strips of bark. One area was stiff and it snapped under her fingers, grinding the way broken bone would.

“You said I was a villain… ninjas are not villains, my dear [Name]. We are merely servants of the night. Yet you have strayed into the moonlight, and that I cannot forgive.”

\---

Your eyes darted around suspiciously as the woman led you out of the temple. It looked to be a village, entirely empty, but you’d regained enough of your old strength to feel eyes on you. There were people—hundred of people, you could feel—yet you saw nobody.

“Jin.”

“My lady.”

You whirled around and saw a man clothed entirely in black. You hadn’t sensed his arrival at all and held your breath, your eyes automatically moving to his hands to see if he had a blade to slit your throat with.

“Carry [Name]. She is moving much too slow. I doubt she even remembers how to channel her chi any longer.”

“Wha—?!”

You had no time to protest before you were on his back. There was no warmth coming from him, and his hands under your thighs were like eagle talons piercing the flesh of a helpless fish. You squirmed and the old woman merely shot you a piercing gaze.

“Quiet, young one.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, blatantly ignoring her order. “What do you _want_ with me?”

“I am going to remind you,” she said simply without facing you, “of who you really are. You are not Fu Hu Li, fox spirit of Yao Ling. Your name is [Name], and you are a killer. Come, Jin.”

“Yes.”

The old woman vanished right in front of your eyes. You had blinked for a mere second. You looked around wildly, your heart in your throat before Jin grumbled,

“Hold on tightly, [Name].”

“That’s not my name,” you hissed, but something about him made you feel as if you needed to trust him. You dug your fingers into his shoulders reluctantly before feeling the air tear at your face. If you had had any time, you would’ve screamed, but it was already over. Jin deposited you on the ground roughly, your instincts the only thing allowing you to land on your feet rather than your ass. 

“Apply chi to the feet to move like wind. It was lesson one, and you’ve forgotten… but there are no worries. Here at the temple, you will _have_ to remember.”

The woman was walking slowly. You got to your feet warily, before getting a shove from behind. Jin glared at you through his mask, his expression not properly discernable.

“Go, [Name].”

“Stop acting so familiar with me,” you spat. “I don’t know you.”

Still, Jin seemed to be the most trustworthy person yet, and that was already a stretch. You followed after the old woman at a distance, watching her carefully. She walked easily with a bit of a limp, and you still had no idea how she or Jin had moved so quickly. You glanced at your own feet, biting your lip. 

Jin had taken you to a mountainside. You had seen the range from the village the old woman had abducted you to, and the climb was exerting your newly healed body. You didn’t dare complain, not wanting to reward the old woman with any display of weakness. Still, she hadn’t even seemed to slow down, marching along at a steady pace. The trail path was muddy and dangerously steep, but she navigated it easily. You nearly slipped and fell to your demise a dozen times, but somehow, you made it to a platform that levelled out, giving your screaming legs a moment of relief.

“This is the temple where ninjas are honoured,” she said in a low whisper, as if speaking loudly would disturb somebody—or something. She turned to you. “The Dragon’s Pulse is strong here and it feeds the children of our village. It feeds Xing. This is where you were born, [Name].”

“That’s not…”

Before you could finish, you looked at the temple, and your breath was stolen from your lips. It was old and ruined, the marble lions decaying into blue-green monsters. Columns and pillars had collapsed and gold tarnished into what looked like cheap bronze. But you began to walk towards the centre, slipping on patches of moss, not able to stop yourself. Your thoughts emptied themselves out, deflating like water out of a shattered vase. You collapsed in front of a fox statue, its pointed nose upturned to you as if not wanting to accept your disgraceful and unworthy presence. 

You could feel the Dragon’s Pulse underneath the stone. The woman hadn’t been lying—it filled your blood, agitating it, making it boil under you skin. It took everything you had not to fall to the ground entirely. Something was pressing you into the ground; or perhaps it was pulling you closer. Slowly, you looked up at the fox.

And then… you remembered.

Your name was [Name]. You didn’t have a surname, because ninja children could not afford the luxury. You had been born and raised an orphan. The woman had no name except for Elder, and she was the leader of the ninja village. Your brothers and sisters of the village were not comrades, they were competitors—but Jin had been a boy that gave you rice when you were near starvation, and you returned the favour by saving him from fever. The village was cold. It was foggy, it was damp, and it was cruel. But it was your home. Your despicable home. 

You had killed 41 people by age 3. 

You crawled away from the statue hurriedly, choking on sobs as floods of memories and emotions rushed back. All the lessons you had been taught, all the faces of the people you had killed, but worst of all—

“Do you remember the mission you failed, little one?”

You stopped at the Elder’s feet. She looked down at you condescendingly, the sun acting like a halo for her stony face. You sat up onto your knees, breathing hard through the tears.

“I can’t do it,” you whimpered. “I can’t—”

She kicked you harshly, blowing one of your teeth out. You spat the fragments onto stone as she sighed.

“You were better than this. You were one of our best. And what happened? You went soft. It’s disgusting of you. If I had it my way, I would kill you myself.”

“Then do it!” you lisped through blood, glaring at her angrily. “Kill me!”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you want me to kill you.” She folded her wrinkly hands in her kimono sleeves, obscuring her talon like nails. “You will suffer more if you complete the mission. Your employer is most displeased with you. You haven’t completed your orders in fifteen years.”

“I refuse to now. Kill me.” You got to your feet, staring at her with level eyes. “End my dishonourable life!”

“No.”

“Well, what are you going to do? I refuse to complete my mission. My employer can take his gold and shove it up—”

“You _will_ complete the mission. If you do not, I will send Jin. And I will ask Jin that it be slow, and I will ask Jin that he suffer.”

Your defiance fizzled away quickly as she smiled at you, looking for all the world knew a kind old lady who was merely giving her grandchild a sweet. Only, the sweet was poison, and she’d forced it down your jaw.

“You… you would do that,” you realized, your voice hollow with defeat. “And Jin would, too.”

She chortled behind her sleeve. “Yes, I would. Now, do you understand the mission parameters?”

“…yes.”

“And they are…?”

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. There was no good reason why you had gotten sick with fever and lost your memories. But, the reason you’d done so in the Yao province was:

“To kill the Yao heir, Ling.”


	14. Murderer || 殺人者

It wasn’t as if the ninja village were to be so kind as to send you a horse to ride home with. They didn’t even have the courtesy to knock you out and return you like they had when they abducted you. You proceeded on foot, and were escorted by the reticent Jin, who remained silent despite your aggravated questions. He hovered behind you like a reminder, and you couldn’t help but feel your scowl deepening every time he put a hand on your back to push you along faster.

“I thought you cared for me,” you spat disgustedly, swatting at a mosquito that latched onto your forearm. It splattered your blood across your skin, and the smear of red made you sick. Ignoring the pain of the bites, you turned all of your frustrations to your childhood partner. “You and I had nobody but each other. I helped you, didn’t I? And this is what you do to me now?”

Jin finally responded in a cool, low voice that chilled you in the humid air.

“Even if you spared my life with a knife to my throat; even if you saved me from pestilence or starvation; I would take the knife and thrust it through your heart if I had been asked to. I care for nobody, [Name].”

“That’s not my name.”

There was no more conversation after that.

After arriving at the border of the Yao territory, which was marked by a simple wooden archway carved many eons ago, Jin hesitated. It was as if the archway repelled his spirit. You turned around after stepping back onto the land you now called home and you taunted him for it.

“Need me to invite you in, Jin?”

His dark, nearly charcoal black eyes levelled with yours. There was no humour or recognition in his gaze and he merely tossed you something, quick enough to behead you if you hadn’t caught it in time. The kunai’s weight and texture was familiar and you had no need to look at your hand to know what it was.

“If the heir is not dead in a fortnight, I will return,” he warned. As an afterthought, he pulled the scarf back over his face, obscuring everything but those dark eyes. “You have heard the Master’s orders. [Name]… we had nobody but each other. I will concur. But I will not hesitate to kill him in a way that makes him suffer immensely.”

With that, he vanished, spurred by the chi in his toes to make it look like he vanished into the air. You wanted nothing more than to bury the blade in your hand, like its curse might be severed from you if you returned it to the Earth, but you tucked it into your sleeve. It weighed down much more heavily than tempered steel could and you forged onwards, wishing that you had the option to kill yourself instead. You wished that the Master would’ve taken your wrists and snapped them, letting you bleed. You wished that she would’ve burned you, drowned you, thrown you into the rocky range; you wished that she would’ve let the foxes eat you live. The alternative… 

Ling’s smile flashed in your eyes and you felt physical pain manifest in your heart, which had softened far too much. You had to stop and cry. Ling, the clever spirit—no other person deserved to die for him than you. He was good and what were you to extinguish his flame? The tears ceased after you were wrung out and you lifted your tired eyes, spying the palace on its familiar ridge. Home. Could you even call it that anymore? 

But there was no easy way out for you. Jin was many things, one of which was a good liar, but he would not lie about this. Maybe he wouldn’t enjoy killing Ling, but he’d make sure it hurt. You had to do it yourself to make sure that he went out as gently as possible. 

Your blood had to thicken to stop the movement of compunctious visitings. You were to be unsexed here; the milk of human kindness in your breast must be turned to gall. You had to abandon the person you had become and return to the one you were—the person who was not a person at all.

Finally, you grit your teeth, continuing towards the barely distant palace. The tears had dried onto your face, invisible as if they had never been there. You were now a shell, just like you had been when you wandered up here so many years ago. When they found you, they hadn’t known what you were.

You were a killer. You are, and you would be. You just had to make sure that the last victim of yours was yourself.

\---

When you returned, a whole parade of people—common folk, servants, and scholars alike—rushed to you. It was such a bizarre sight that you froze, suddenly fearing that they had somehow found you out and would be sentencing you to death. Before you could reach for the blade in your tunic, they bowed low, touching their foreheads to the filthy ground. You couldn’t help but gape, staring at the endless rows of dark heads that were lowered to _yours_.

“Um… you must be mistaken,” you stammered out, your eyes darting around frantically. “I—”

One woman nearest you raised her head with confusion when she heard your uncertainty, only to have it slammed back down by the older maid on her right. Your well-attuned ears caught the hushed whisper.

“Do not raise your head! That is the young Lord’s chosen betrothed!”

You about had your wish of death, your heart skipping several beats before hammering against your ribcage in a frenzy. You stared down at the line of servants, swallowing hard.

“What did you say?” you asked shakily. “What… did you just say about me?”

“P-permission to speak, my lady?” 

You found the wavering voice easily. The rough pink tunic was strikingly familiar against the masses and you recognized her immediately. Cheng Xian Na was one of many maid daughters that worked in the palace, but she was close to your age, and the two of you had grown up together. You always shared what you could with her and in return, she paid you with a patient ear. She was one of few people who you had been able to confide in, and you knew that she knew about you and Ling. 

“You don’t need my permission to speak, Xian—”

“My lady?” she repeated forcefully as a warning, her head still bowed to the mud.

With a sinking stomach, you had a feeling that you already knew what she was going to say to you if you granted her permission to speak. You could’ve denied her the privilege, as now, you had the right—but the simultaneous clamour of held breaths coming from the Yao clansmen forced you to choke out a “speak, then”. 

She raised her head. Her wide eyes, familiar in their gentle curves, had a certain nervous apprehension behind them that were directed to you. Your faithful friend was afraid of you. She had good reason, you knew, but you had never wanted to see her look at you like that. It looked too much like the first woman you had slain…

“The Young Lord has sent back a message from the West!” she announced shakily. Her voice, more suited to reciting romantic poetry, cracked hard under the pressure as she attempted to project her weak voice. She did not meet your gaze, as she did not have the permission to, for now you were no longer a vassal. You squeezed your eyes shut as she continued, confirming your worst fear.

“…and he announces that you, the esteemed Fu Hu Li, are to be his highness’ fiancée.”

Not only were you to be a killer of an heir; now, you were to be the killer of your husband.


	15. Hesitation || 猶豫

Nothing was the same again.

You hadn’t expected it to be, not with the return of your lost memories. But everything had flipped wrongfully, and you found yourself weighed down with more than just expensive silks. All of your friends grew distant, fearful, and you were more alone than ever before. Status, apparently, came with the price of love. You were shuffled into a new room, gargantuan in size, only serving to make you feel even lonelier with its vast emptiness. You already knew that people were judging you—the strange orphaned common girl who appeared out of nowhere—suddenly becoming the empress-to-be. You knew that they suspected foul play, but you didn’t blame them. You only wished that it hadn’t happened at all. You only wished that you’d just died before meeting Ling.

You stared outside, having the luxury of a private balcony to the gardens. Bees hovered around the swollen lilies, meandering around with a carelessness that you were envious of. The sun was sweet on your skin, and everything should have been right. The one you loved had proclaimed his love back to you. Yet, the only thing you felt was deep remorse. If only the fever had killed you so many years ago. If only Ling hadn’t fallen in love with you. If only you hadn’t fallen in love with _him_.

The door slid open and you turned wildly, still jumpy with anxious tension. You relaxed when you saw Xian Na, her head bowed respectfully. You’d chosen her to be your maid, but it was incredibly uncomfortable for you to be choosing servants when you still felt like one.

“At ease, Xi. We’re friends.”

She raised her head tentatively, her silky hair falling in stringy sheets around her pale face. She pressed her lips together and entered the room, kneeling a few ways back. It felt like there was a chasm between the both of you, and although you wanted nothing more than to jump across it, you knew that the only thing it’d accomplish was a hard plummeting fall. 

“How are things?” she asked quietly. You couldn’t help a sigh, one that you’d been repressing the whole time to retain your image in front of the nobility.

“I wish it had never happened,” you admitted truthfully. You hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with anybody, because they were no longer allowed to speak to you—you couldn’t help but understand why Ling had always been so eager to cling to you, now. You craved human compassion that didn’t stem from gold or wealth. It was far too lonesome to be in the company of your own thoughts.

“You’ve no need to be humble, my lady. Many women would die for the chance to be the betrothed of a prince.”

“I’m not one of them,” you sighed. _I’d rather die, myself._

She let out a soft sigh before finally coming closer. Her delicate hands sunk into your hair and she began to braid it back, the warmth of her hands giving you some comfort. You closed your eyes as she gently tied your hair back, twisting it upwards into a noblewoman’s. 

“I have to go see him,” you said all of the sudden, needing to confide before you burst. Her hands froze as you spoke rapidly. “I have to go to Amestris.”

“You can’t!” she replied quickly, horrified. “Master Fu Hu Li, you can’t. You must stay here in the palace. You’re his bride, you can no longer—”

“I know,” you pleaded, turning around and grasping both of her hands tightly. She stared at you with teary eyes as you spoke. “But I have to see him. You don’t—can’t understand why, but I need to go.”

“I can’t let you,” she replied, and she sounded genuinely sorry. You lowered her hands as she lowered her gaze.

“I understand that, but Xi—”

“But… Hu Li.” Her eyes darted up to yours as she interrupted you for the first time since you’d known her. “We’re friends. So… when the empress-to-be is suddenly found to be missing, I will take the fall.”

“What?” You looked up at her, your neck snapping up as fat tears rolled down her smooth cheeks. She looked up at you and gave a faint smile.

“Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to continue with my poems. With your encouragement, I found the strength to go on. I need to repay my debt. Besides, you are my master… who am I to defy you?”

“Xian Na…” your own eyes welled with tears and the both of you bowed your heads together.

“I’m not your master. I’m just your friend.”

\---

Now that your memories had returned, you finally figured out why the night brought you so much ease. Blood wasn’t as bright when it was spilled under moonlight rather than sun. You had thought the stars to be so beautiful before; now, you wished they could’ve hid their fires. You didn’t think you deserved any beauty.

Your thoughts numbed away into silence during the desert crossing. It had always been easy to slip into this mode of unbroken concentration, and the monotony of the horse’s plodding wasn’t much to disturb you. Your eyes were trained forwards on the horizon. West. You closed your eyes, reaching out with your chi to connect with the Earth’s Dragon Pulse. It grew weaker the farther you went from the mountains, but a sharp twinge made you gasp aloud. It rushed over you with warmth. There could be no mistaking it. 

Ling Yao.

Faint vestiges on your palate told you that Lan Fan and Fu had also been this way. The people that had once called you family—you hadn’t even thought of what they’d think of you when you killed Ling. Of course, you planned to kill yourself before any repercussions could fall upon you. Still, you knew that you’d be hurting them more by not allowing them to die after their master had been slain. They were good people. They were all good people. You had no qualms or fear of your own death, and you held little regard for what would happen to you after death in Hell, but you hoped that you’d be able to sink your blade into yourself before having to see their faces. The thought of their despair struck more fear in you than eternal suffering.

Your thighs squeezed the horse as you urged it on faster. Day would be coming soon, and you knew that the sun would have no mercy for you.

\---

You didn’t have any memories outside of Xing, and the foreignness of it all baffled you. How could things be so different a mere desert apart? Each building looked as if it belonged on a different world. The only thing you recognized was the cloudy sky.

Westerners flowed around you, fair-haired men and woman chattering in Amestrian. You found yourself dazed. Their tongue baffled you; their style astonished you. You couldn’t help but stare in awe. Slipping past the border had been troublesome, what with the high-security Amestrian patrol, but it’d been easy enough for you.

A loud grumbling sounded distantly, jolting you back to your senses. You jumped aside into the shadows of an alleyway, holding your breath as a military tank—you only knew this from stories Fu had shared—clattered down the stone streets. You winced as putrid smoke filled the air. A strong looking man with metal for both arms saluted stiffly. You watched with judgemental eyes as people disregarded the weapon of mass destruction entirely, weaving around it to make way. There was a lack of war, and yet, war vehicles trundled down city roads. Out the corner of your eye, you saw a young girl cheer and wave. You no longer wondered why the Xingese revelled in the fantasies of the Great West’s strength.

But that wasn’t your mission. The pull of Ling’s chi was so strong that you felt nauseous, having to get a check on yourself by gripping the handle of your kunai. You’d already given him your dao, but the cold metal of your weapon made you feel no better.

With little else to do but get it done with, you breathed in deeply, melting back into the darkness to pursue your first and last love.

\---

It only took you half the day to track him. His chi felt sickening again, coating you in a pallid sweat. For some reason, you couldn’t feel Fu or Lan Fan around nearby. They were still in the city, but far. Curious. How could they be so far from their principal? But you didn’t want to know the reason. All you knew was that it would make it easier to kill Ling if you didn’t have to fight off the others.

You began to wonder. Would he let you do it once he heard about the situation? Would he die with a smile? Or would he fight you to the death? For a second, you hoped that he would just kill you, but that would scar the young lord in ways that he did not deserve.

Wondering was futile. The sun was setting again. You would’ve waited until dark, but you couldn’t bear to live any longer than you had to. There he was.

He was sitting on a hillside, his back turned to you as he watched the setting sun. He’d adopted a new dark cloak, Amestrian, but his figure was the same. Yet his spirit… it was cold, nauseating, gut-wrenching—was this your own guilt manifesting? Would your own conscious kill you before anything else?

If you shot at him with something, he could certainly intercept it. He’d been trained since birth, after all. You would have to act under a guise and strike when he’d lowered his guard. The idea of betraying him with a smile made you feel even more sick, but you drew in a deep breath. Better he die gently than at the hands of the damned ninja village. Right?

“Young lord,” you spoke, commanding your voice to stay steady. You stepped out onto the hill, the slope only just steep enough to have you on your careful toes as you took another step. “It’s me.”

He turned, startled. His face narrowed with surprise when his eyes locked onto your face, but you immediately saw something wrong. This man was Ling but… he didn’t _look_ like Ling. Something was different. Something wasn’t right.

Suddenly aware that you no longer had the option of apologizing to him before he died, you reached in your sleeve and flicked your wrist. As you predicted, Ling cut down the kunai, and you heard each one slice into the ground with successive _thunks_. You brought out the last one and moved in, focusing chi to your feet to give you a boost of speed. He didn’t seem to expect you coming in at the tight angle and you knocked him into the ground, the tip of your weapon digging into the fabric of his shirt. The both of you breathed heavily as you looked down into his face, trying to force your hand… but your eyes met his and you couldn’t.

“Hu Li?” he breathed shakily, voice weak as you sat on his chest. You swallowed thickly, blinking once to remember his face.

“I… I’m sorry, my lord. Ling, please forgive me.”

Your hand shook as you raised it. You could waste no more time. This was it. In a fluid motion, you brought your hand back down, and you thought you saw Ling smile softly at you in the corner of your eye. 

…only, the kunai didn’t meet flesh—it met stone—and suddenly, you met Earth. Ling flipped you as easily as he could lift a child, pressing you into the grass as a hysterical grin slashed an open wound on his face. He hadn’t been smiling; he’d been _smirking_.

“Oh man, you’re Ling’s girl, huh?” The voice was coarse and the language was difficult to understand. You’d gone through studies, but hearing foreign words tumble out of the man with Ling’s face made it all the more terrifying. “You’re more flat chested than I’d hoped, but I like strong girls. I like girls with fight. This bratty prince has got good taste after all.”

“Who are you?” you choked, his weight on your throat making your vision go splotchy with black. You couldn’t fathom how Ling had gotten so strong—but this wasn’t Ling, so who was he? He cackled, and you gasped as the hot hand on your throat grew cold. Your eyes flicked down and you saw with horror as hungry steel ate away Ling’s flesh, his fingertips growing sharp as blades as they cut miniature slits under your jawbone. 

“Greed’s the name. Your young prince? He’s locked away up here.” He tapped his head with those steel fingers. He laughed again, a cordial laugh, as if he didn’t have his hand to your windpipe. He winked with Ling’s face. “I’ve got to say that I’m pretty selfish, so you’d best remember me even after you’re dead, baby girl.”

His hand tightened, and you felt his strangely formed metal hand dig slices into your skin. This was it. This… was it. You’d failed. But perhaps in this failure, you’d won.

You relaxed with defeat and looked up at Ling’s face, smiling softly, in the hopes that maybe—he could forgive you. 

He raised his hand and brought it down upon you with the force of God’s judgement.


	16. Conflicts || 衝突的

You had been fully prepared for death since you’d taken your first breath of life. As an orphan of a ninja village, what other choice did you have? If you didn’t eat, you’d die. If you failed, you’d die. If you stuck a toe out of line, you’d die. So, if it’d be at the hands of Ling, fine. Even if it were only at the hands of whatever _beast_ had taken control of him, you could only hope that he’d be all right without you. Even though you had imagined what it’d be like, you never guessed that death would be so… painless. Surely, there had to be something…?

Ling let out a ghastly scream, suddenly rolling off of you. The sudden loss of weight off your chest alarmed you and you lay for a moment, staring up into the bitter orange sky. The colour was so vivid and poignant that you could taste it. You weren’t quick enough to comprehend what was going on, but something had changed. You immediately scrambled to your feet and lunged at Ling, pinning him underneath you. Being so close to him and his diseased chi made you feel sick, but you fought through your swirling vision and glared down at him.

“Who are you? What have you done with the young Lord?”

“I… I told you not to call me… Lord.”

He choked underneath your hands, but the sudden switch to your mother tongue was jarring and you froze, confused. He took advantage of your second of weakness, batting your arm away and sitting up. He held his head, wincing, but looked right at you.

“Hu Li.”

“You… Ling, is that you?” You were afraid to hear the answer, and Ling seemed to know. Instead, he smiled wryly.

“You’ve gone soft. Greed nearly beat you. If I hadn’t re-established control…”

“Greed?” you questioned, your emotions running so rampantly that you decided to shut them all off entirely. Stoically, you clutched the handle of the last blade hooked onto your belt. 

“Yeah. I did it, Hu Li! I achieved immortality.”

The statement seemed much too heavy for his overly light tone, so you made a face. He blinked, his short eyelashes fluttering. He got to his feet shakily and you quickly went to his side, supporting him. The mission was forgotten as you led him to the grass, setting back him down gently.

“You have to explain,” you urged after he remained silent, his eyes cast over the distance. “You really achieved immortality? How?”

“Homunculi,” he muttered, still sounding distant and dazed. You shook his arm, the metal of your kunai digging into you painfully. It reminded you of what you saw and you touched your neck, which was still wet with rivulets of warm blood.

“Ling. What was that metal? No— _who_ was that?”

“We share a body,” Ling replied softly, after a long silence. He finally looked at you, the low sun striking the hidden gold in his deep brown eyes. “Even now, I have to fight Greed to keep my consciousness.”

“Y-you…”

“But he regenerates. He turns man to steel and back again at will. And he doesn’t die. The Emperor will be proud. The Yao clan’s saved.” He laughed self-deprecatorily, in such a way that you couldn’t help but be utterly bewildered. Silently, you sat, watching him carefully. You’d lost the nerve to kill him now, and bit your lip, tasting the regret in the iron of your blood. It’d be too hard now.

As if able to read your mind, Ling turned.

“Why did you try to kill me?”

“I…” Taken aback by the sudden confrontation, you could only swallow thickly and avert your gaze. “I regained my memories.”

“And?” 

As a child, Ling had always promised you that you’d regain your memories. You had felt so alienated then for not knowing who you were in a world built on rigid structure. He’d reassured you every day. He’d treated it as if it’d be a wondrous thing, an occasion worthy of celebrating. You smiled ruefully, figuring that you might as well admit to it.

“We met because I was meant to kill you. It seems that I’m no good at it.”

“Is that because you love me?”

He was looking out again. The sun had dipped behind the horizon, leaving everything dark, save for the pale powdered sky. You stared at his side profile, your eyes catching on everything that wasn’t quite right since the last time that you’d seen him. He was changed. Were you, after your memories? Your shoulders fell with the weight of your words, your breath a gasp as it caught in your throat.

“Yes.”

“Listen closely. I can’t fight Greed for long, so you need to know this.” He grabbed your shoulders suddenly, making you stiffen. He forced you to look into his eyes and you flinched, unable to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t you realize what I just said?!” you choked out, unable to restrain your angers and fears and love for him any longer. “I’m meant to _kill_ you—”

“I don’t care about that!” Ling yelled at you, drowning out your words. “You need to know that I love you—and if you have to kill me, you need to do it!”

You weren’t sure why he sounded so strained, especially since you weren’t fighting him or anything, but he suddenly bounced to his feet and staggered back.

“Don’t hurt her,” he muttered to himself in that strange Amestrian tongue, “don’t you dare hurt her.”

“Why not?!” he yelled suddenly, spasming to the side violently. He was shuddering uncontrollably as his back turned to you, and you could only watch in horror. His tone changed entirely, ruined with uncharacteristic aggression. “I think _you’re_ the one who’s gone soft, Young Lord! Where was that young prince who wanted the throne, huh?! The _ambition_? You can’t control greed for long, you brat!”

“Don’t hurt her!” he yelled back to himself, “or I’ll kill myself with you in me!”

“You’d do that for such a stupid thing as love?” he taunted himself, as his other persona, Greed. “You’d sacrifice everything for a girl who’s trying to kill you herself? What are you, a moron?!”

“Yes,” Ling groaned, “because I love her. You would know if you’d just let me _explain_ , Greed—”

“How about you just go to sleep?” Greed replied. Ling’s neck cracked in a horrifyingly inhuman way. Finally, he was quiet. Slowly, he turned back to look at you, his neck twisting in ways that necks weren’t able to twist.

“Ling?” you asked quietly, expecting the worst. 

Greed grinned back.

“Nope,” he answered huskily, taking a heavy step towards you. The grey steel that had cut into you like claws through buttery skin ate away at his own flesh, until he gleamed in the moonlight.

“Sorry, baby girl, but you’re going to have to go. You’re distracting my meat sack, and I don’t like it. Last words?”

“Tell him… that I love him too. Would you?”

Greed hocked out a nasty laugh, throwing his head back until he was laughing all the way up at God. When he had finished, he wiped fake tears from his eyes, still shaking as he giggled.

“Man, you kids… I’m feeling a bit generous, actually, so why not? Yeah, I’ll tell him. So get ready to die.”

“Fool,” you muttered under your breath, smiling as he ran to you. You held your arms open and the wind embraced you, and then Greed—Ling—held you as you fell.

_I’ve been ready since the start._


	17. Promise || 諾言

It was surely a killing blow. Ling had been trained since he could walk, and surely, the monster inside of him was taking advantage of Ling’s dexterity. If it had been any other, they would have died on the spot, steaming intestines spilling out a gash in their abdomen.

You were not any other.

Channeling your chi to your toes, you sidestepped the instant the point of his fingers grazed your tunic. Of course, you earned a mighty slash to your side, but it was not fatal. You gripped Ling’s wrist, twisting the blades of his hardened hands away from you. But with this impenetrable steel coating his skin, you would never be able to complete your mission—and he’d have mere seconds before finishing his.

“Yao Ling, _fight it_ ,” you hissed, ignoring the agonizing pain that burnt up the side of your hip. Your wet blood cooled in the dying light, making you shiver uncontrollably as you wrestled with the Greed demon inhabiting his body. Greed howled and screamed, but you repeated yourself: “Fight it. Fight it. _Fight it_!”

It seemed to be taking some effect, for his spasms were erratic in nature and directed away from you. He staggered away from you, but you followed, gripping him close. Greed spat profanities that you hadn’t learnt, but from the tone of it, they were meant to hurt deeply. You didn’t care.

“Fight it, Young Lord, fight him!”

“ _No_!” he screeched, his hand curling into a sharp fist that trembled in your grip. It did not cut you, however, and his sweaty face was wrenched in concentration. “Goddammit, you stupid prince, just let me slice her up—!”

There was no time left. You wrenched him towards you, pulling hard, and kissed him.

It was harsher than the first time you had kissed, but the motivation behind it was clear and quite the same. You loved him. It was an ache deep in your soul that seemed to cut you up and splinter you from the inside out, but you loved him. It might have been easier for the both of you if you didn’t; it would most definitely have been easier if he did not love you. Yet his lips parted for you, fitting to the shape of yours, and you knew that the both of you had destinies that lead to a doomed, star-crossed fate. But it was shared.

“…Hu Li.”

The name was not yours. You pulled away, battling the weakness in your legs as blood drained from your wound. 

“[Name],” you said softly. “That’s who I am.”

Ling’s expression was soft when you looked upon him, traces of Greed already gone as if they had never existed in the first place. He reached, and you spied a blood red tattoo on the back of his hand. Still, you accepted his touch without hesitation, allowing him to brush sweaty hair from your forehead.

“Whatever you call yourself,” he said, his voice weak but words resolute, “I will still love you.”

Tears welled in your eyes and you finally collapsed forwards, clutching onto the back of his shirt. He held you up before sinking to the ground himself, the both of you leaning hard on each other. You felt his tears wet your neck, your own spilling over to leave clean rivers on dusty cheeks. 

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” he murmured, “you’re right. I can fight him. I must.”

“I trust you, but… what happens when he becomes unbeatable?”

He was silent in thought. His hands were tight around the wound on your waist, staunching the blood that he had drawn himself.

“Then I’ll make a promise,” he declared, pulling his head back so that you could see him. The sun had long since set, but the remnants of its light stained the night sky stubbornly. He looked more noble than you had ever seen him before, bloodstained and exhausted and haggard as he was. The light of his brown eyes gleamed furiously in the dark, sending shivers rocketing down your spine.

“Ling—” you began, believing that promises were words that could never be kept. He shook his head and continued forcefully.

“I promise to you that I will become the emperor. Whatever it takes. I promise you that I’ll be safe… and that I’ll come home to you.”

You bit your lip. Could you believe him? Could _you_ of all people even deserve to have his trust? He seemed to know what you were thinking despite your silence and pressed his forehead to yours, forcing you to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat, short eyelashes fluttering as his breath warmed your cold skin.

“In return, you promise me that you will _be_ home. That you will welcome me as my wife.”

They were bold words without any other option laid down behind them. He had always been that way; seemingly unthinking and naïve, dumb in demeanour, but always cunning and playing five steps ahead. He was a fox in his thinking, mischievous but sharp, fast-footed and sure. 

“Why trust me?” you asked, your voice breaking as you looked frantically into his eyes. “Why have me?”

“Because I love you.”

“And why’s that?”

“You love me, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer before closing his eyes, already knowing. His lips pressed against yours, languidly, as if drawn to them by nature’s desire. Your heart seemed to slow as he embraced you. If it were any other day, you would have panicked, perhaps screamed in distress; you would most definitely have rejected him and denied your own feelings. Yet having him around you, surrounding you, made you feel whole.

When you were still wandering the world without memories, you’d always felt broken. There was something wrong about you. Off. And yet, Ling had clung to you, and stuck to you, as if some missing shard of a broken plate. He was what made you whole again; he was gold solder to hold you together. He was your purpose and your life’s blood. You were bound to him by spirit and fate. You had a mission to kill him and he’d struck you down with three simple words: _I love you_.

“Will you serve me?” he asked. Your thinking was scattered as you tried not to think of the pain, but the way his eyes held yours focused you immediately. 

It would have been easy to kill him now. The thing inside of him had quelled, and he was open and soft, exposed to you. A child could have slashed him open. It would have taken no time at all to cleave his lifeline cleanly, along with your own string of destiny.

And yet, you didn’t. And yet, despite your mission, you did not. You were a child of the night and moon; a ninja raised to kill. Your blade was sharp to sever any and all connections to mortals.

And yet, you were tied to Ling by red ribbon—you were tied to him by fate.

“I will,” you said, weakly at first and then more strongly. “I will serve you with my life.”

“That’s not necessary,” he laughed, the sound already lightening the heavy ambiance that had settled. He looked down at your bloodstained clothes. “Are you all right?”

“I will be. You inflicted the wound, after all—it’s bound to be shallow, coming from such a weakling.”

He grinned lopsidedly at the jest. You returned the expression. 

Your village, your background, your upbringing. You were shadow and blade and nothing else. That was your soul, and spirit, and resolution. Your kiss was of a steel blade; your eyes were of dead koi. Ling had changed that. Ling had turned your eyes to molten fire; kiss to sweet nothings.

Your name was Fu Hu Li, soon to be Yao Hu Li. [Name] was forgotten. You were a vassal of the 12th prince of Xing; you were his wife; and you were his love. And he yours.

Fate, inevitable as it is, is malleable. Fox spirits have a choice; they can be malicious, or they can be benevolent.

You were choosing the path of the sun, turning away from the cold moon.

“Do you promise me?” you asked, grabbing his arm. “Do you give me your word?”

“Hu Li…” He took your own, gripping with strength like he would a comrade. His hands slid down your forearm, his fingers entwining tightly around yours, solidifying the union of red thread.

“You have my everything.”


	18. Eternal Love || 永愛

Ling had ordered you to return to the palace with news of victory. You hadn’t wanted to leave after finally uniting with him, but he’d held out his pinky finger and swore you to oath. He left a mark of his own on your collarbone, aching sweetly, a reminder that he was with you in love and spirit alike.

You didn’t expect a welcome return to the Yao clan after abandoning them wordlessly. After the last concubine, Ling’s mother, had died without bearing other children, your status as an important person was made very clear. Besides, Ling’s choice of you, a vassal that held no noble name, as his royal bride did not help elevate you in the eyes of the aristocrats. To your surprise, the guards were in an uproar when they spied you on your charger, riding back carefully, exhausted by the desert and the weary road.

“Master Hu Li, welcome home!” one man cried, tears staining his cheeks. The other was on his knees, bowing up to you. It was bewildering, and awkward for you, but you were pleased nonetheless. The ninja village that raised you had tainted the idea of family, twisting it with sharp spines of obligation. But the air of unconditional love surrounding you as you were welcomed into soft arms must have been the truth. 

Your wounds were cleaned and healed, taken care of by the physicians. Once again, your dark clothes were replaced by lavish scarlet silks, looking as if they’d been dyed by a sea of blood. For the first time, you donned them without regret, allowing the weight of gold to sink onto you. Yet your responsibilities were far from over; you knew. 

Jin arrived not long after you, his presence unknown until you turned to face him. His blades were kept in the scabbard, but his hand dusted over the hilts as he looked over you emotionlessly.

“You’ve changed,” he remarked, quietly. You smiled at him, wryly, but genuinely. 

“So have you, Jin. Thank you.”

For the first time since you’d known him, his composure broke, his brow twitching as a frown ghosted his lips. You continued to smile, lowering your gaze as you sighed. The steel of his sword was silent as he unsheathed it, but he hadn’t come closer yet.

“How could you know?” he asked, his voice wavering. “How…?”

“It’s in your eyes.” You watched him come closer behind you in the mirror, the tip of his sword trembling like a leaf in wind. You didn’t turn, closing your eyes instead. “You’re not like you used to be, Jin. I can read you like a book. You killed my employer, and the elder as well. You have set me free.”

He was silent. When you re-opened your eyes, his sword had returned to its scabbard, neatly sheathed as if it had never been touched at all. Jin’s back was to you, and you turned hurriedly to see him step away without a goodbye for you in mind.

“If there’s anything you need from me, I would be happy to give.” He stopped in his tracks again, listening to you intently. Continuing, you spoke lowly, but honestly. “You could have a place here as a vassal, you know. If you are looking for a new master to serve, Ling will treat you well.”

“…I’m not looking for soft treatment.”

“Then what are you looking for? Friends?” You did not stand to follow him, but you saw him turn back to you for a second, freezing again. His confusion was obvious in his hesitation. You let yourself smile again. “Jin. You mustn’t worry. You’ve always had me. If you’ll have me pay back my gratitude in pearls, please. Enrol in the service of the Yao clan.”

“I hope to clean your pockets out, then,” he said dryly. He disappeared after blinking, but you felt his presence hovering, a ghostly shadow of the moon to protect you when the sun was asleep. You wouldn’t lie; you hadn’t expected him to do anything for you. Something must have moved him in order to get him to abandon the village. Was it your devotion to Ling? Perhaps observing that had gotten your old friend to believe that he too could shed adamantine chains of obligation in favour of forging his own destiny. You turned back to the mirror, touching your neck gently, Ling’s mark slow to fade. Your lips curved into an amused crescent once more. For such a young lord, he was sure to rule greatly with benevolent power. 

It was long before he returned. Even then, he journeyed to the capital first, hastened by the Emperor’s dwindling time. You waited every day and night with baited breath, staring up at the moon, hating being so close yet so far. If it were up to you, you would’ve gone to him right away—but he had ordered you to stay and wait. Word travelled slow in post, and you could only pray that things were going well.

The day he came home was marked by cheers that seemed to echo across the entire Yao clan. You’d never been one to display your emotions openly, but even you were anxiously standing at the door of the palace, shifting your weight and counting each second. You spotted him in the distance first, and in protest of your royal guard, you ran to him. 

Time froze as he leapt off the back of his black horse, arms hardly opened before you crashed into them. You pressed your face to the strong musculature of his chest, eyes shut as your arms tightened around him to make sure that he was really here.

Without shame, he took your chin with his fingers and kissed you, giving you no time for words as they were conveyed through the passionate embrace. The child he once was had grown up, and you were sure that you had kept your promise to his late mother. She would’ve been proud—if not embarrassed that her son was kissing a woman in front of the entire clansmen. You didn’t even care anymore. It felt too good to have him back.

Fu was the one to break it up, his own white warhorse’s hooves clacking impatiently on the tiles as he cleared his throat. Ling withdrew reluctantly, but he was smiling down at you. Something must have changed in Amestris after you’d left. His chi was the same as it had always been, the traces of that Greed monster gone, and he welcomed your touch. You couldn’t say that you were displeased.

“How goes it?” you breathed, so excited to see him that you could scarcely find your breath. He wrapped you back into his arms, his hug strong as your face settled into the crook of his shoulder.

“I’ve succeeded. Thanks to you.”

Your eyes welled over with happy tears. You pulled away from him. Your life, spent revolving around him, was warm through his light. He was your purpose and love. You were a fox spirit, child of the night and wife of the sun, and you were Ling’s.

You bowed to him, offering yourself. Raising your head, you couldn’t help a smile.

“Milord.” It was the first word you had said to him since he’d seen the light of this world, and he seemed to realize that, nodding once. Once, he had complained of you calling him ‘lord’, demanding you call him your lover. Once, he had sworn to you that he would make you an empress. Ling Yao was many things, but it appeared that he was no liar.

“My lady.”

_My love._

He took your hand, and you accepted his warm touch, walking with him closely. When you once walked behind him in shadows, you walked by his side in light. His fingers tightened around yours, and you returned his grip tightly. Nothing would have you let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everybody who read and left comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/aJ8cq6


End file.
